


Corner of the World 42: Wander Through the Valley

by serafina20



Series: Corner of the World [46]
Category: Smallville
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-23
Updated: 2011-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 12:56:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 46,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serafina20/pseuds/serafina20





	Corner of the World 42: Wander Through the Valley

If there were really nine circles of hell, then Clark was in the tenth. Being eaten alive was nothing compared to the way this day was going.

The day had started with grief counseling with Mr. Font. Now, normally, anything that pulled Clark out of biology was a good thing. Ever since Miss Atkins, a.k.a., the bitch from hell, had left, the class had become the most boring of the day. Clark had been reduced to reading the biology book, the Periodic Table on the walls, and a romance novel hidden in Lana's book bag for entertainment during the long hour. So, most days missing the class was fine.

Except for grief counseling. Because, really, what Clark had wanted more than anything in the entire world was another reason to have to go see Mr. Font. It was right up there with being locked in a room with meteor rocks and being adopted by Lionel.

He had a half and hour session with Mr. Font at the beginning of school. Then, upon returning to class, he found out there was a bio test. Even though he hadn't studied, he faked his way through it. Then he spent Spanish pretending like he couldn't speak it fluently (although his teacher was catching on because her questions to him were about ten times more complex than anyone else's). He actually had spent most of that period writing in his journal.

Then had been trig, which had sped his descent into hell, because Theresa had been hanging all over him. They were working in the same group on problem solving, and every single opportunity, she hung over him, hair in his face, smelling like roses. It was fucking annoying. Especially because when Chloe picked him up after class, like she did every day, and put her arm around his waist, like she did every day, Theresa got all bitchy. She'd snapped at Chloe, shot Clark a dirty look, and then flounced off.

And that, Clark knew, was what prompted the tenth circle of hell:

 _I feel him inside me, but he doesn't see me_  
 _I must be invisible_  
 _Lost, I wander through misery_  
 _Wishing I were small and blonde and cute_  
 _like other girls_  
 _But I'm not. I'm just me:  
 _Too tall, too awkward, too unbeautiful_  
 _But one day I'll blossom, and then he'll see_  
 _a beautiful rose where a ragweed_  
 _used to be__

And it got worse. Because there was also, "Darkness. The world is darkness and death. Only the Chosen see clearly. This Town does not see clearly, as you shall see."

And, "When I was fiv, my father told me that I could be what ever i wanted when I grew up. I remeber that day perfectly. We are at the lake, and he held me on his lpa, a fishng pol between our hand."

Clark was ready to kill himself. The pieces were _so_ bad. Like getting too near the meteor rocks. Or maybe ingesting them. Actually, no. Swallowing a rock would be less painful than this.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. There were seven pieces total submitted to the literary magazine. Two were good. He hoped his was good. The other four made him wish he had a spork so he could gouge his eyes out.

He flipped through the packet listlessly. Each piece had been submitted without a name to encourage impartiality. They were supposed to read everything and make comments and, since supposedly they didn't know who wrote them, no feelings would be hurt if they were harsh.

The problem was, Clark _did_ know who wrote each piece, and he knew that everyone else did, too. And he didn't want to hurt anyone's feeling, but they pretty much all needed work.

Maybe the literary magazine was a dumb idea.

He sighed again and looked back at the Darkness piece. Written by Chad, of course, him being Smallville's one and only Goth and proud of it. Although, to be perfectly honest, lately, Clark felt like joining him. If he'd owned all black clothes, he'd be wearing them every day. As it was, he was wearing and re-wearing all his dark blue clothing. Then, the other day, Chloe had dragged him to the drug store after school. Clark had found himself seriously considering the eyeliner, wondering if black or blue would look as good as the green had on him.

He'd been having a lot of strange thoughts lately.

The door cracked open and Chloe stuck her head in.

"What?" Clark mouthed.

She pointed to her watched and mouthed back, "Need a ride home?"

He shook his head, and ignored the expression on her face. Clark hadn't been the most reliable when it came to getting where he needed to be over the past few weeks. Lex, Lana, Chloe, and Pete literally led him around everywhere, and his dad had taken responsibility for waking him up every day. Four alarm clocks weren't doing the trick.

"I'm fine," he insisted silently.

Chloe shrugged, rolled her eyes slightly, and left. Clark knew she'd just be waiting in her office for his meeting to end before taking him home.

He sighed silently and flipped to the next piece. It was one of the better ones, a short and pretty funny story about apple picking. There were some mistakes and oddly worded passages, but, overall, Clark liked this one.

But he didn't know what to say about it. Any of them. Not right now.

He glanced up at the clock and cleared his throat.

"Um, everyone?"

They looked up at him expectantly, which made him nervous. Why did they look to him all the time?

Oh. Right. He'd just called for their attention which he could do because the magazine had been _his_ idea.

"I've been thinking that, uh, trying to comment on everything right now might be detrimental. I mean, this is a lot to process, right?" He flipped through the pages. "I know I need to think about them more."

Theresa nodded. "Yeah. I mean, they're all _really_ good, but they could totally be better. I know I want to think about them more before I give them back to you, just so I know I've done my best to help."

"Are you suggesting we take them home over the weekend?" Amber McGookin asked.

Clark nodded. "Yeah. I am."

"Okay, but won't that put us behind schedule?"

Clark nodded slowly, and then shook his head. "Not too much. I scheduled in a window for something like this anyway. And we can always give less time for rewrites and final drafts if we start running out of time."

"You could also push this back to the new year," Mr. Townsend suggested from his desk. "Publish after winter break if you need to."

Clark glanced at him, nodding his assent. "Yeah. I mean, this is the first run, right? We're just finding our feet, so we're going to have to improvise and change some."

Jeremy cleared his throat. "Um, I'm all for pushing this back, but I have a band competition this weekend."

"Oh," Theresa said, looking uncomfortable. "And I have a soccer game."

Clark fought the urge to roll his eyes. "We don't meet again until next Wednesday. So take all that time to think and comment. And, I think we should all, like, write another piece. Something on a specific topic."

"What topic?" Chad asked, picking at his nail polish.

He thought a moment, trying to think of something that wouldn't automatically get twisted around to death. "Uh ... how about hope?"

One of Chad's black-line lips curled. "Hope?"

Unexpectedly, Clark found himself mesmerized by the thin lips and the way the darkness contrasted against his pale, pale skin. They were lined so perfectly, so sharply, that Chad's lips looked as if they were painted on by a professional artist. The color was dark and glossy and caught the light enticingly.

Clark wanted to mess up the paint. He wanted to see Chad with his lipstick smudged and cheeks flushed. He wanted to put bruises on his neck and see the dark purple against the near-ivory skin. He wanted ....

"Clark?" Amber prompted. She poked him with a pencil.

What the fuck was _wrong_ with him? "Sorry." He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. "Yes, I think you should write on hope. It's a pretty open topic. Attack it anyway you want. Maybe we can intersperse what we write on hope in with the rest of it, so we can sort of have an overall theme in the magazine."

Theresa nodded. "I like it."

"All in favor?" Clark asked.

Everyone muttered under their breath and nodded.

Good enough. "All right. Let's pack up; I'm sure Mr. Townsend wants to get home." Clark shoved all the papers into his folder and bent down to stick it into his bag,

And then, Theresa was hanging over him again, hair brushing against his face. "So, uh, Clark. I was hoping you could come to my game on Saturday." She looked up at him through her eyelashes as she pushed things into her backpack.

He frowned and pulled away. "Um, what?"

"It's our first game of the season, and I was hoping you could come for, you know. Good luck."

Clark felt himself flush. How many times was he going to have to turn her down before she understood he wasn't interested in her as more than a friend? Because, yes, on the surface, she was just asking a friend to come support her at her game, but the underlying tension was so much more.

Luckily, though, he had an excuse for turning her down this weekend. Besides the fact he wasn't interested. "I, uh, can't. I'm going to Metropolis."

"For the whole weekend?"

"Yeah." He stood.

"Oh." She looked put out. "What are you going to do?" Theresa rose as well and stepped around her desk.

Clark shrugged. "Go to the opera and some museums and stuff."

"Ah," she said knowingly, a smile crossing her face. "Parents are taking you for some culture?"

No, boyfriend is taking me for some culture, but it wouldn't do to say. So, he shook his head and answered, "No, actually, I'm going with Lex. He's determined to make me seem less like a small town hick."

"He has something against small towns?"

"He has something against his friend not knowing a musical from an opera," Clark laughed. "Really, it's cool. I'd like to see what it's like."

Theresa all but beamed at him. "That's so cool. I mean, most guys are all, like, football and wrestling and naked women. You're at least willing to try something new." She stepped closer and put her hand on his arm. "I like that about you, Clark Kent."

He stiffened slightly and pulled away. "Uh, yeah. But, anyway, maybe I'll be able to make it some other time, okay?"

That put a grin on her face, and she nodded. "Great. I'll count on it. See you later."

"Bye."

Theresa left, following most of the group who'd disappeared sometime while they'd been talking. The only person who'd stayed behind was Chad, who was standing in front of his desk, shifting his weight from side to side, almost like he had to go to the bathroom.

Clark suppressed a sigh. "Is something wrong?" he asked, expecting an argument about how stupid writing about hope would be.

To his surprise, Chad shook his head. "No. I was just wondering if I could submit something else since there are so few pieces."

"Do you have something?"

He shook his head again, his fine brown hair falling over his forehead. "Not with me, no, but I have stuff at home. I had a hard time deciding what to turn in, and I don't think what I wrote was very good."

"It's fine," Clark protested automatically, but he flushed when Chad fixed him with knowing blue eyes.

"I thought it was fine, until I read your piece. The whole alien motif and glass and surface stuff, wondering who you came from and what matters more, not wanting to hurt your parents, but yearning to know the truth. It was deep, man. Makes my stuff look like crap." His cheeks flushed and he shot a look at Mr. Townsend.

Clark felt himself turn red as well, but for a different reason. He'd grown used to swearing in front of Mr. Townsend over the past two weeks whenever his speech failed him. He knew that his teacher didn't mind.

He was just embarrassed about praise. No matter how critically he looked as his writing, he still didn't understand what other people thought was so special about it.

"Your stuff is fine, Chad. It's just ... well, I guess I'd have to say you're trying too hard to drive home your point."

"Like ..."

"Like, in _Darkness_ , you obviously want people to see that life isn't all happiness and sunshine, but they refuse to see it. I think you're trying to show that it's better to acknowledge the darker side of life and praise the people who do. It's just so ... much." Clark shrugged. "It makes me want to stop listening."

Chad nodded. "Okay, I see what you mean. I'll look over it. But, can I still submit something else? I have stuff I like a lot better than that piece."

"Sure. I'd love to see what else you have," Clark finally said, knowing that it would probably be just as bad, and yet wanting to give him a chance.

He grinned and sort of bounced around a little. "Thanks. I'll bring it to school tomorrow."

"Okay."

"Okay. Oh, and, um, so you're pretty cool, you know? I mean, you don't, like, point or stare or make a big deal out of ..." He held up his hands and wiggled his fingers.

Clark frowned. "Uh, yeah?"

Chad shrugged. "Just thanks. That's all. Oh, and do you want to maybe hang out sometime?"

He hadn't been expecting that. No one asked to hang out with him. Well, that wasn't true, exactly. Whitney had, but only because they'd been shooting baskets with each other at school. And Theresa, since she'd been tutoring him in trig. But both of them had crushes on Clark; he hoped Chad didn't.

Still, at the same time, it couldn't hurt. So he forced himself to smile. "Sure. That'd be fun."

Chad grinned. "Cool. Okay, I'll see you later. Bye, Mr. Townsend."

"Bye, Chad."

Clark waited until Chad was gone before allowing his shoulders to drop. He sighed deeply.

"Well. You're a pretty popular guy," Mr. Townsend said, coming up behind him. He placed his hand on Clark's shoulder.

He shrugged. "Not really. I don't have many friends."

"Is that because you hide from people, or because people don't like you?"

He flushed and ducked his head. "I've never really fit in, that's all."

"Amazing how, once you make the effort, it gets easier, huh?" He squeezed Clark's shoulder.

Clark glanced up at him and smiled very hesitantly. "Well, not easier." He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Lately, it feels like the whole school is trying to cheer me up. Everyone always knows everyone's business, you know, and everyone knows about Ryan dying."

"And you don't want to be cheered up?"

"I don't know. I mean, I hate to be ungrateful or anything, but I've spent most of my life not really talking to anyone. And, suddenly, Theresa is hanging all over me, her friends are bugging me in the lunch room, and Chad is asking me to hang out with him."

Mr. Townsend was silent a moment. When Clark glanced up at him, there was a thoughtful expression on his face. "I don't think they're trying to cheer you up. Well, maybe Theresa, but that's because she's got a crush on you. And Chad ... I think he isn't trying to cheer you up as much as he's excited to have finally gotten a chance to know you. The timing is just a coincidence."

"Yeah, I guess. But there's still Lana, Chloe, and Pete."

"They're your friends. And, don't worry, they'll lose interest after awhile. Unfortunately." Mark squeezed Clark's shoulder again and dropped his hand. "You'll find that people give you a limit on how long you're allowed to grieve for someone. They don't mean to, but it happens. The loss doesn't affect them as strongly, and even though they may know it hit you harder, they'll get ... bored or tired of trying to support you. Not in a mean way, but they have lives and troubles and joys that they want people to know about. That's when you start feeling like an ass because everyone else is okay but you're not. But, of course, you're not, it's a natural part of life, and it'll pass, just like everything else."

He sighed. "It sucks."

"Yes," Mr. Townsend agreed. "It does." He was silent a moment, and then asked, "Do you want to talk for a little bit?"

He thought about it for a moment. Even though Mr. Font was officially counseling him, it was a lot easier and more comfortable to talk with Mr. Townsend. He didn't get that look on his face Mr. Font did, like something Clark said was wrong and he was going to have to be locked up to stop from being a danger to the world.

But, best of all, Clark could talk about his concerns for Lex to Mr. Townsend, and he didn't have to worry about the repercussions. Well, he worried a little, since Lex was trying to be friends with him, but it wasn't like Clark said anything too personal. It was simply a relief to be able to talk about Lex with someone and not have to hide what he really meant to Clark.

Clark's grief journal was on Mr. Townsend's desk. When Mr. Font had told Clark he had to keep one, he'd been angry for some reason. Part of it, he knew, was because he was being forced to do the counseling anyway, but he was also unaccountably angry with the idea that he had to share his writing with a man he didn't like.

Luckily, though, Mr. Font didn't make him share it. He only invited Clark to read pieces he'd written and checked to make sure it was being written in. Which let Clark have the freedom to write pretty much whatever he was thinking about at the moment, as long as it revolved around Ryan, of course. And the last piece he'd written, he actually wanted to share ... just not with Mr. Font. Which was why he'd given his journal to Mr. Townsend after class that day, just to see what he thought.

Mr. Townsend sat down and opened Clark's journal. "I read what you wrote, and it was beautiful. I really think you should try submitting it somewhere."

He blushed and looked away. "No. I mean, it's not that good."

"Don't put yourself down, Clark," he replied patiently.

"Uh, sorry. I just ... I don't know. I mean, it's not polished or anything. I just wrote it because Mr. Font wanted me to."

"Really? So he's the one that gave you the words? Perhaps the ideas? The feelings?"

Clark clenched his jaw and didn't answer.

" _Don't_ put yourself down, Clark. It's a good piece. Creative and more mature than one would expect from a sixteen year old."

He felt himself heat up. "Really?"

"'I've heard the veil is thinner in the fall, which, I guess, is why he slipped away now. He was so sick and so small, it had to have been easier for him to lie back on the grass, bathed by the mellow autumn sun and just step between worlds. By then, the call of death, and the pain must have made it easy for him to leave.'" He stopped reading and raised his eyebrow. "Maybe it's a little rough, but it's very affecting. I really think it would honor Ryan's memory if you did more with this." He pushed Clark's journal over to him, which he took gratefully. And then, because he was really good at changing the subject when it was time, he asked, "So, have you started the book I recommended?"

" _On Death and Dying_?" Clark nodded. "Yeah. It's interesting." He'd actually already finished it, and although he couldn't make it apply to his own experience very well, he'd spent many hours thinking about where Lex was. Mostly, he seemed to waver between anger and denial, flaring up really easily over nothing, and then acting like everything was perfectly normal. He didn't sleep, hardly ate, and spent most of his time working or reading. "

"Is it helping you any?"

He swallowed. "I don't know. The thing is, I don't know, like, what stage I'm in. I mean, I'm angry and depressed and confused and frustrated and ..." He broke off, blushing. He didn't want to admit he had these amazingly intense moments of being extremely horny, because he had a feeling it was an inappropriate way to be feeling right now. Besides, Mr. Townsend was his teacher. It was gross.

"Whatever you're feeling, Clark, is normal. The stages aren't sequential, and you don't necessarily go through them one at a time. You progress however you progress. The good thing is, though, is it does get better. Eventually."

He dropped his eyes to his hands. "You lost your mom, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did. Three years ago."

"I don't know what I'd do if my mom died."

Mr. Townsend sighed. "You cry, and you bargain, and you insist it didn't happen and that she's coming home in a few days. You get angry, you get depressed, you get sick, and then, eventually, you start to smile. At things like your friends trying to cheer you up, or cute boys hitting on you. You find yourself laughing at things, and then, one day, two whole hours pass and you realize you haven't thought about the person you lost once. And then you feel guilty, and probably spiral back a little bit, but, as you said in your journal, the world turns, takes you into winter, tears crystallize on your cheeks, and then melt in the spring." He shrugged. "You learn to live, Clark, and you learn that the hole gets filled by memories to make it ache less."

Clark swallowed hard, fighting the lump in his throat. "I'm just so afraid of being left alone."

"Then surround yourself with friends. People you truly like and truly enjoy being around. It's never easy, but it's better than closing yourself off because you're afraid of being hurt."

"You're just saying that because you want me to be friends with Chad," Clark said. His throat was so tight, it came out in a whisper.

Mr. Townsend leaned forward on his desk and looked at Clark seriously. "I'm just saying it because I know how hard it can be when you don't quite feel as if you fit in and you suddenly lose someone important to you. You draw away from people when you're depressed, Clark. It's a normal reaction, most of us do. But you seem to be withdrawn in general and I think it'd be good for you to start opening up and making more friends. Not all at once, especially since you're grieving. But there's someone reaching out to you right now and I think you should see where it might lead."

"But what if he, like, wants to be with me?

"Then tell him that you're flattered but not interested."

Clark nodded and swiped at his eyes. "What about Theresa? I don't like her. How can I turn her down without telling her that I'm gay?"

Mr. Townsend thought a moment. "Go back to the classics. Tell her that you're not ready for a relationship, or that you like her, but not in that way. Make sure to let her know that you think she's a nice girl, though. But, chances are, the two of you aren't going to remain friends, especially after she realizes that you actually mean what you say." He shrugged. "It's just the way relationships go, unfortunately."

"Yeah," Clark sighed as he picked up his journal. "I know. I just don't like hurting people's feelings."

"Sometimes you have to. It's worse to keep lying about how you feel about them."

"Yeah. I know." He rose and slung his backpack over his shoulder. "I should get going. Chloe probably is waiting for me."

Mr. Townsend was gazing at him through quiet, steady eyes. "All right. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Okay. Bye." He left the room quickly and made his way down the hall to the Torch office.

Chloe was inside, music blaring. Her eyes were fastened to her computer screen but she looked up when he walked in. "Hey. Ready to go?"

Clark nodded.

She rose, flipped off the music, and went to him. "You okay, babe?" She put her hand on his arms and leaned in.

"I'm okay. Just, you know." He shrugged and closed his eyes.

"I know." She kissed him softly on the cheek. "How was today?"

He thought about it a moment and then sighed. "It was on the low end of okay. Not good. I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine. Tomorrow will be a good day. I promise."

"You always say that."

Undaunted, she smiled and threaded her fingers through his hair. "And tomorrow I will be right. Trust me on this, Clark. Tomorrow will be a good day."

He swallowed his sigh and leaned into her so their foreheads rested together. For a moment, she said nothing and simply squeezed his eyes so tightly, red patterns appeared behind his lids. And then, finally, he whispered, "Yeah. Tomorrow will be a good day."

* * *

When all was said and done, Lex really didn't like video games. They were too easy. It only took about five minutes to figure out the trick, and then, the challenge was gone. Sure, it was fun to steal cars and kill people, but, after a while, it got repetitive. Boring. There were only so many times you could blow someone's head off before you started yawning.

Lex shot another person and yawned. He really needed to look into getting some puzzles or role-playing games. Or Star Wars.

"Hey."

Lex looked up and quickly paused his game. "Hey." He tilted his head back so Clark's kiss landed in the vicinity of his mouth and not his forehead.

Clark moved so he was sitting behind Lex, legs stretched around him, arms wrapped around his waist. "Wow. High score."

"I haven't been sleeping," he said with a shrug. "There were only so many times I could go over reports and things at work before I needed some fun. I hardly ever play this thing." He touched the PlayStation 2 console with his socked foot. "I figured it was time to give it a chance."

Lips pressed against a sensitive patch of skin behind Lex's ear. "This weekend, want to get more games for it?"

He nodded. "Sure, if there's time." He leaned his head against Clark's shoulder. "I have big plans for you."

Clark smiled and kissed him. "Can't wait. Wish we could leave now."

"Me too. But I am a responsible member of this community, and, thus, cannot contribute to the delinquency of a minor. Therefore, you go to school like a good boy before we run off to the city for a weekend of debauchery."

"Fine." He sighed, closed his eyes, and leaned his head against the couch.

Lex leaned against him, dropping the control panel. "Bad day?"

"Yes and no. I'm so sick of going to counseling."

"I know."

"And kids my age can't write."

He snorted. "I know."

"And school is a huge waste of time."

This time, he sighed and laced his fingers through Clark's. "I know it feels that way, but it's an endurance trial designed to weed out the herd. Just hang in."

Clark rested his cheek against Lex's head. "I am. I'm caught up on all my homework too, so I'm back on track. I'm just so out of everything." He traced Lex's fingers gently, brushing lightly over the chemical stained tips. "Were you in the lab today?"

"Pretty much all day." He sighed contentedly. "It's so much easier to work when you don't have someone dictating every move you make. I can't use the same formula I did for Dad, but now that I'm free to experiment without his parameters, I'm getting a lot more done."

"What are you trying to make?"

"Same thing as last time, basically: a mostly organic fertilizer. If I can figure out a pesticide to go in it, that would be great, too. The problem is, I've inherited Luthor Corp's poor environmental record, so I have to tred carefully. One mistake, and I'm sunk."

Clark shifted against him, and stroked his ear. "That's not fair."

Lex snorted. "Angel, trust me, I'm used to it. If anything, moving here has been an object lesson on being judged by your name. Yes, I've always been judged, but it's different here. Personal."

"And it's your future father-in-law doing the judging," Clark said morosely.

"Actually, he's not that bad. Anymore. But the town's still not sure about me. They go hot and cold real easily. Sometimes I feel as if I've got a brand on my forehead. Oh, wait." He smiled slightly and ran a hand over his head.

It brought a laugh from Clark, which made Lex feel warm. He hadn't thought it'd be that easy to get laugh; Clark was tense and distant, again. Lex knew he shouldn't complain, but ... it stunk when he was like this.

"So," Clark said after a moment, "mostly organic, huh? Is that good?"

"I think so. I don't have absolute faith that all organic is a way to go in today's society, as much as I love your parents. For all his faults, Dad had a good point in trying to find a way to combine the environmental health of organic with the benefits that a chemical fertilizer or pesticide can bring. I'd like to do something similar, only more effective." He sighed and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. "I am starting to put out a new type of organic fertilizer next month. And the EPA will be touring the plant in a few weeks. I've made a lot of improvements in waste management and I think I've caught everything, so I should have a sterling record starting out. Which will be good. I do, however, need to find a way to drum up some good publicity so more people will buy into the company. I need to expand."

Clark crawled from around Lex so he could stretch out with his head in his lap. "Why can't you just expand now?"

Lex shook his head and began stroking Clark's hair. "It's not that easy. We've been in the black since the buyout, but our profit margins are thin. Not only that, but stock isn't as good as it could be. Part of it is that we're only one fertilizer plant and one lab, but Lex Corp also isn't in the public eye enough. The first few months I was hurt by Dad's injury. Most of the mentions I received were in articles about Dad. I got one or two in the business section at the beginning, but I don't have the publicity I need." He sighed. "I've spent too much time hiding here. As soon as I opened Lex Corp, I should have been out there making myself visible in the public eye. I should have gone to events and parties and meetings and ... well, you get the idea." Lex rubbed his eyes and added, "And I should have made myself look like a nice guy to try and erase my brat prince image. At the very least, I should have made a huge donation to charity right off, especially since I had two excellent causes."

"Which ones?"

"Blindness or paralysis."

Clark frowned. "Okay, I get blindness, but where's paralysis coming from?"

"Damien. People see him and assume he's a paraplegic." Lex shrugged and wrapped a curl around his finger. "Most people only see what's right in front of them and don't ask any questions. I'm the same way ..."

"No, you aren't," Clark cut him off. "You look beneath the surface on everything Lex, that's why your mind is always busy. And you always ask questions. That's why you were able to figure out about me. I mean, even given the evidence, most people aren't able to draw the right conclusion, right? Or else Chloe would know."

"Well, I had the added benefit of being able to read your mind. But, I guess you are right. I guess I do notice more than just the surface."

Clark took Lex's hand and pulled it close to kiss his wrist. "That's why you're a genius."

Lex smiled and felt himself puff up a little. "Yes, I guess I am." Then he sighed again. "But, anyway, it's too late, really, to donate anything now. If I did, it'd just look as if I suddenly remembered I have money and could be using it for good use. I'll have to find a better cause."

In his lap, Clark went still. He looked away, eyes seeming to study the far window before returning to Lex's face. "I, um, noticed the other day that someone donated a ton of money to one of those wish granting foundations for kids with cancer. I think it was called Grant a Wish or One Last Wish or something."

Heat from his ears spread over his face and he knew he was bright pink. He had to clear his throat and look away from Clark's deep eyes, back to the frozen figures on the screen. "Oh?"

Clark sat up. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't know what to say. And it felt so stupid. So fruitless. I couldn't do anything for .... And doing this was .... It felt as if I were trying to atone for something I never could."

"Baby ..."

Lex inhaled sharply and forced a smile on his face. "But you found out. So it didn't matter anyway, did it."

"You did plenty for Ryan."

"No."

"Lex, please, listen. You did."

"He still died, Clark," Lex said sharply. His chest ached as he said it, and he felt as if he might be sick, but he forced himself to say the words. "He died. He's dead. What does anything I did matter?"

Tears in his eyes, Clark opened his mouth to say something when there was a loud crash from just outside in the hall. In an instant, Clark was gone, the door opened behind him. Then, he shouted, "Call an ambulance!"

"What happened?"

"Damien's been hurt."

* * *

"One million dollars, vice president of Lex Corp, and a summer home in Hawaii," Lex said as he paced. He turned sharply on his heel so he didn't slam into the wall, concentration on his conversation.

"Do you think I don't want to be there with him?" Dominic said sharply. "This is killing me, but I can't."

"Dominic ..."

"No. No, I can't fly back out right this instant. Not even for Damien. Besides, it's a broken leg; I think he'd be angrier if I dropped everything at work and flew from England for a broken leg than he would care that I'm not at his side."

Lex grimaced and pivoted again. "It's not quite a broken leg, Dom. He shattered his right kneecap and broke his thigh. Plus, a few of the fractures that weren't quite healed on the weaker area of the bones fractured again. And the doctor thinks there might be nerve damage now. He might lose the ability to use his leg."

There was a long silence. Lex stopped pacing and leaned against the wall, grateful that at least the wing Damien was in was in a significantly different part of the hospital than he'd spent so much time in the recent weeks.

"I'll call him tomorrow morning," Dominic finally said. "If he needs me to come home, I'll be back in the evening, if possible. I think the jet is still in England. If not, I'll book myself a flight. But, Lex, things are delicate out here. The London office is as unorganized and wretched as reports had indicated. Lionel has let this place get out of control, and, while I'm not sure why, I have to do something to fix it. Especially if you think you might want to buy Lionel out. From what I see, you have a good shot, especially considering he hadn't put any more than he absolutely had to into the former Hardwick Industries."

"How's morale?"

"Everyone hates the Luthors."

"Great. _That's_ just what I need." He rolled his eyes. "Talk me up."

"Every chance I get." He hesitated. "I'm just afraid to leave on a business day. It might be interpreted as Luthor Corp not really caring about their interests at all. I'll fly home on Saturday if it's feasible, but not until then. I'm sorry."

Lex sighed and rubbed his eyes. He stopped pacing. "No, you're right. I'm sorry."

"No, don't be. I'm glad to know you actually care about Damien." He cleared his throat. "Is he available to speak right now?"

Lex shook his head. "Not yet. They're setting what they can of his leg. I've called the orthopedist, and he should be coming in sometime within the next few hours. I'm not sure who else to call, though. I want to call another doctor, a specialist in something, but I'm not exactly sure what kind."

"Ask Dr. Sutton, she'll know."

"Oh, _fuck_ ," Lex swore.

"What is it?"

"Ah, shit, I forgot to call her. Goddamn it."

"Lex, calm down. It's not the end of the world. You can hang up with me and call her now."

He leaned against the wall and banged his head against it a few times. "Okay. Yeah, I'll do that."

"Good. And, ah, Lex, we ... well, I need to talk to you. It's rather important."

Lex pulled away from the wall and turned. "About what?"

There was a short pause during which Lex heard Dominic take a deep breath. "Well, you see, Lex, it's about Vic ..."

"Dom, I've got to go," Lex cut him off on catching sight of Damien's doctor. "I'll call you later." He closed his phone and quickly crossed the hall to her. "Dr. Bryce?"

The young, pretty doctor turned when her name was called. For a moment, her nose wrinkled and lips pulled back in an interesting expression, but she quickly composed herself. "Mr. Luthor, right?"

"Yes, I'm Damien Walters' employer." He held out his hand and shook hers. "How is he?"

She shrugged and gave a sort of half smile. "In pain. And I'd say depressed, although he's holding up well. I've given him something to help him sleep, and, when I left, he was resting comfortably."

"Good." He nodded and ran a hand over his head. "I've called his orthopedist from Metropolis. It's going to take him awhile to get in, but .... What?" She'd made another face.

"Nothing. I think I can deal with this fine on my own, but if you want to call in the _experts_ , then that's fine."

Lex narrowed his eyes, immediately defensive. Yes, the last time he'd called in experts had resulted, in, well, his father going blind, but this was a totally different case. For one, it wasn't life threatening. And, two, this was _Damien's_ doctor, not some random person Lex had never met before.

But, he put on his best public face and said apologetically, "I've offended you. I'm sorry. It's not that I doubt your expertise, I just would feel more comfortable if the man who's been treating him since the original injury looked him over."

"It's okay, Mr. Luthor," she said with a small smile. "I'm second guessed for a living."

"Actually, it's called a second opinion, and I would think that, as a person who daily decides the fate of her patients, you wouldn't mind an extra set of eyes every now and again."

"Just like I suppose you like an extra pair of eyes looking over everything you do." Her smile grew, and this time Lex thought he saw a slight twinkle in her eyes.

He smiled back, suddenly enjoying this. "Actually, I do. And I call that second pair of eyes 'Damien'. Without him, my work isn't quite up to the standards I set for myself. And, believe me, Dr. Bryce, they are very exacting."

"Oh, I bet they are." She pushed some hair back from her face and, for the first time, Lex noticed what an attractive woman she was. It was more than just her looks; she had a spark of intelligence about her that radiated through, and a warm confidence that told him that she didn't often take her self so seriously that she couldn't laugh.

Beautiful, smart, and, so far, amusing. She was everything Victoria hadn't been.

Lex frowned and rubbed his forehead. Why the hell was he thinking about Victoria?

" ... so just write down the doctor's name, if you could, and get it to me before he comes," Helen was saying. "That way, we can help Mr. Walters much faster."

"Here's his card." Lex reached inside his breast pocket and pulled it out; he'd had the presence of mind to remember the medical information card, but not call Dr. Sutton. Still ...

He froze, frowning as Dr. Sutton rounded the corner.

"Did I call you?" Lex asked in confusion.

She smiled, looking harried, and took his hand. "Clark did."

That boy was getting three kinds of lucky this weekend.

"What happened?" She looked from Lex to Helen and back again.

Lex shrugged, feeling embarrassed. "He was coming off the elevator and I guess something went wrong with the breaks. He hit the banister pretty hard, and the whole chair just toppled over. We heard the crash and found him pinned underneath."

Dr. Sutton closed her eyes and shook her head. "My poor boy."

"Is he your son?" Helen asked, her voice much softer than it's been while talking to Lex.

"No, my nephew. I'm Dr. Aimee Sutton."

A brief look of surprise crossed over Helen's face, but she took Dr. Sutton's offered hand and shook it. "Dr. Bryce. I'll be taking care of your nephew until the cavalry arrives." She smiled slightly at Lex.

"Dr. Bryce, yes, I've heard of you. You recently had a paper published on blood born pathogens, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did. You read it?"

Dr. Sutton nodded. "One of my main interests lately is blood; I would love to sit down and talk to you about it sometime. I'm actually working with an interesting case along the same lines as your article. Not exactly, but I still would love to hear your input on the subject."

Helen smiled, looking flattered.

The "interesting case" in question decided that Helen was ugly and Dr. Sutton was a bitch.

"May I see Damien?" Dr. Sutton asked.

"Yes, of course. Let me take you to his room. So, is your interest in pathogens?"

"Not exactly. My subject isn't ill, but his body is producing an unknown chemical. I've never seen it before, and I don't know if it's a new kind of virus, albeit one that actually boosts his immune system, or a sort of mutation. Are you at all familiar with the history of this town?"

Helen shrugged. "Yes, I am. I know about the meteor shower, the high level of white blood cells many of the residents have, and the few, well, let's call them extreme cases that have come out."

"Has anyone ever talked to you about possible causes?"

"I've read everything from chemical dumping from the local Luthor Corp plant to residual radiation from the meteor shower. I actually intend to do some research in the field while I'm here."

Lex cleared his throat. "The Luthor Corp plant is now part of Lex Corp, and I can assure you, we're not responsible for any environmental damage."

Helen turned and smiled. "Of course not. And I am sorry."

"It's all right," he replied stiffly.

"Can you tell me about my nephew, Dr. Bryce?"

Helen began to explain the extent of his injuries, walking through them slowly and gently. Lex noticed she put her hand on Dr. Sutton's arm a few times, and her face remained one of abject sympathy, yet never lost it professional demeanor.

God. She was good. And maybe a little bit pretty.

Clark was standing outside of Damien's room, leaning against the wall, talking to an orderly. A cute orderly. A short orderly with reddish hair, a light smattering of freckles, green eyes, and the ability to bring a rosy flush to Clark's cheeks by just standing in the hall, talking to him.

This hospital fucking _sucked_.

Clark glanced at them, nodded, and turned back to the orderly. "I'll see you around, right?"

"I'm always here, and, if not here, then somewhere around town." He punched Clark lightly in the arm. "Take care. And I'll keep an eye out for your friend."

"Thanks." Clark turned to Lex and the rest. "Hey, Dr. Sutton."

"Clark, thank you for calling." She went to him and kissed him on the cheek. "Have you seen him?"

He shook his head. "I've been looking through the door, but he's pretty out of it."

"It's the pain killers," Helen said. "I also gave him a mild sedative, just so he could get through the night."

Dr. Sutton nodded. "I'm going to sit with him for a few minutes." She put her hand on the door, turned the knob, then stopped suddenly. "Dominic's in England," she said, turning back.

Lex felt his face go red, and he cursed under his breath. He was _so_ fucking tired, he couldn't control anything. "I called him."

She laughed softly. "Of course. Him you remember to call."

"I'm sorry."

"Lex." Dr. Sutton took his hand and squeezed it. "I know. It's perfectly all right. Now, I want you to go home and get some sleep." Her eyes flicked to Clark. "Make sure he does?"

Clark nodded. "I'll take him to my house so he's not alone. Mabel's in Gotham with her daughter this weekend."

She nodded and repeated, "Go home," before she went into the room.

Helen cleared her throat. "Um, is this Dominic someone who might also be visiting after hours?" she asked.

Lex rubbed his eyes. "If he comes back, yes."

She nodded, looking professional again. "Then I'll make sure to note that in Mr. Walters' chart. So there's no problems."

"Thank you." All right; she was actually kind of pretty. Maybe. So he smiled at her and asked, "You'll call when the specialist gets here?"

"I don't know. I wouldn't want to disrupt your beauty sleep," Helen said with an arched eyebrow.

Next to him, Clark growled.

"Clark ..." Lex said in alarm; God, she'd just been joking.

"Look," Clark said, his voice tight, "my little brother just died."

"Clark!"

"Lex was close to him, too. We're both _grieving_ , and Lex isn't sleeping right now. So if _his doctor_ tells him to get some sleep, then maybe you should just shut up about it!" He glared at her a moment and the stalked away.

Humiliated, Lex closed his eyes. Face in flames, he swallowed hard. "I'm sorry about that," he said. He forced himself to opened his eyes again and gaze at her steadily. "He did just lose his brother. It was a couple weeks ago. He's really emotional right now."

Helen looked uncomfortable. She wouldn't quite meet his eyes as she said, "No, I'm sorry. I mean, first of all, you've already made it clear that Mr. Walters is important to you not only professionally, but personally. And, while it also didn't occur to me that Dr. Sutton was _your_ doctor, I should know better than to mock sound advice from one." Her eyes flicked to him with a faint, self-abrasive smile. "And I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thanks." He smiled. "So, I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Look forward to it. Sleep well." She seemed sincere.

"Thank you." With a final smile, Lex turned and went after Clark, hoping that he hadn't simply sped off to parts unknown.

He hadn't. Clark was sitting outside the hospital, glaring out at the parking lot.

Lex came up behind him. "You okay?"

"No," Clark said. His shoulders were shaking.

"Angel ..."

Clark turned suddenly, his face wet with tears. He put his arms around Lex's waist and held tightly. "You like her."

Lex was struck cold by the accusatory tone in Clark's voice. "No, Clark." He put his arms around Clark's shoulders and held him.

"Yes, you do. You can't hide things like this."

"Clark." Lex slid his hand underneath Clark's chin and tilted his head. "Babe, I don't know what I feel right now. Okay? Everything is just too much for me to analyze what's real and what's not. Yes, I think she's good looking and she seems competent enough. But it's nothing more than that. Besides, who are you to talk? You were practically drooling over that orderly."

The flush returned to his cheeks. "No I wasn't."

Still a little stung, Lex forced himself to shrug casually and say, "At least you're consistent. Short, fey, redheads."

"You aren't fey."

"I'm not a redhead."

"Parts of you are." He slid his finger in between two of the buttons on Lex's shirt. "I think I saw some red here a few weeks ago."

Lex slapped Clark's hand away. "Don't." Stupid mutant chest hair.

Clark caught his hands. "I love you."

His breath caught at the sheer beauty of Clark at the moment. Moonlight was tangled in his curls, his eyes were luminous from the tears, and a stain of red bled onto his cheeks making him glow. All he needed were the wings.

He sighed and lifted Clark's hand to his mouth. Kissing it lovingly, he whispered, "Piek ric, Clark." He kissed Clark's palm again. "Let's go home."

* * *

"Lex?"

Lex sat up and muted the television, startled. "Mrs. Kent. I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

She shook her head, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "No, it's okay. Why are you up?"

"Can't sleep." He looked down at the open book on his lap. "I'm supposed to be resting, and I tried, but I can't. So, no reason to waste good awake time, right?"

Martha came and sat next to him on the couch. "But you're so tired, Lex. You have to be able to sleep."

"Well, I can't," he replied shortly. "I drifted off for about an hour, but then I woke up, and now can't get back down. I'm fine. I'll take a nap or something tomorrow."

"It's not fine. You haven't been sleeping lately, we can all tell. Naps aren't helping. You need to lay down, relax, and sleep for at least eight hours." She reached out and touched his cheek gently. "I know Ryan's death has been hard on you, but ..."

He pulled away violently and rose from the couch. "I'm _fine_ , Mrs. Kent. I'm just having a little trouble sleeping, that's all. Clark's old bed is really uncomfortable."

"It was fine over the summer."

"And it's not now."

"Maybe there's a pea under the mattress."

Lex just barely refrained from telling her to fuck off. No matter how he felt about the unwarranted sarcasm, he knew that one did not say such things to Martha Kent and escape with his life.

Instead, he bit his tongue hard, took a deep breath, and forced himself to think before answering. "I'm sure the bed is fine," he said after a moment. "I just can't get comfortable in it. I'm fine out here. Late night, non-cable television is fascinating."

"You're watching infomercials."

"And discovering a world I had heretofore only heard about." When she merely raised her eyebrow, he added, "Besides. I get to catch up on my reading."

She picked up the book. "*Star Wars: Heir to the Empire*," she read. "This is what you need to catch up on? Did you buy it used?"

His cheeks warmed. "No. But I haven't read it in awhile and ... it's interesting."

"That's good, except it's two thirty in the morning and you haven't slept in a week. Why don't you go outside and sleep with Clark?"

"Because it's freezing outside."

"He has a heater in there."

"Yeah, but he doesn't use it," Lex said, ignoring the fact that he knew Clark had turned it on just in case Lex came out.

Apparently Martha knew that too, because she fixed him with a look that told him that he was treading into dangerous territory. "When was the last time you got a decent night's sleep, Lex?"

"About three years before my mother died, why?" he shot back angrily.

"Because you need to sleep," she replied serenely, as if she hadn't heard what he'd said. Or, rather, had heard it and had understood it for what it was. "You're not going to work tomorrow."

His mouth fell open in an expression of, " _What_!?!" but apparently, tonight, Martha Kent didn't read expressions. "What?" he forced out, voice hoarse.

She rose and went to him. "You aren't going to work. You're going to stay home. Here. And sleep. All day. And, if you don't, I'm going to call Dr. Sutton, and she will come over here and prescribe something to help you sleep and you will sleep today and tomorrow."

"But Clark and I are going to Metropolis tomorrow."

"Not if you don't spend today sleeping."

He exhaled in a failed attempt at a laugh. "You can't be serious."

"I am."

"You're not .... I'm the CEO of my own corporation."

"And you are also a twenty-two year old boy in desperate need of some sleep."

Lex straightened his shoulders and glared at her. "You are not my mother." Which was about the worst insult Lex could muster at this moment, especially thrown at this woman whom he desperately loved and wanted to be held by on nights like this when he couldn't sleep because the baby's cries echoed loudly in his head.

The insult struck her right between the eyes and she blinked from the force of it. And then her eyes softened. She closed the distance between the two of them and pulled him to her. As she kissed his forehead gently, she said, "Maybe not, but I'd like to think Lillian would have asked me to take care of you, had we known each other at the end." She kissed him again.

And, as much as Lex wanted to be here and to hear those words, they were just to much. With more force than he'd meant to use, he shoved Martha away and fled. Heart pounding, he ran out the kitchen door, over the frozen dirt that chilled his bare feet, and into the cozy-warm barn until he was huddled under the covers at Clark's side.

Clark stirred and pulled Lex into his embrace. "Lex?" he whispered groggily. "Baby, what's wrong?"

"Your mother is making me stay home from work tomorrow," he said, and he really hadn't meant it to come out in such a whiney tone.

"Why?"

"Because she wants me to sleep."

Warm lips pressed into his scalp. "I want you to sleep, too."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not. I mean, I know I'm not handling Ryan's death all that hot, but ..." His arms tightened to the strength of iron bands when Lex tried to pulled away and roll out of bed.

They spent a moment struggling. Lex brought his legs up and pushed against Clark's stomach. "Let me go." He kicked and pushed at Clark, trying to break free.

Clark merely grunted and rolled over, trapping Lex beneath him. His forehead came down and pressed against Lex. A moment later, Lex felt a ^tug^.

"Clark," he gritted through clenched teeth, but it was no use. Clark was simply too strong for him and resist as he tried, Lex ^flew^ out of his body and into the space between their minds.

"I hate you, you fucker, let me out," he swore on seeing Kiptin's icy roof over Clark's head.

Clark shook his head and kissed the bridge of Lex's nose. "No. You need this. At the very least. Here your body can get some rest." His lips pressed against Lex's, tongue sliding against the seam as his hips rolled seductively into Lex's.

His breath caught and something hard and dangerous pressed behind his eyes. "Clark, stop," he said breathlessly, tearing his mouth away.

The desperate quality in his tone must have hit Clark, because he stopped and propped himself over Lex. "What's wrong?"

He swallowed hard and fought back panic. "I'm completely numb."

"Numb."

"I can't feel you."

"At all?"

"It's like I'm wrapped in cotton or something. Or a lot of layers. I can feel the vague impression of you ... but not you."

Clark rolled off him. He tugged the thick satin comforter down and moved so they were both lying beneath it. Then he placed his hand on the center of Lex's chest. "How's that?"

Lex swallowed. "Like I'm lying underneath a comforter I can't feel, next to my boyfriend I can't feel, in a place that doesn't exist."

"Kiptin exists," Clark told him, stroking his chest. "It's real, it's here, and if no one else can see it, good. And if you can't feel me ..." He trailed off, obviously thinking hard.

The silence stretched out. He didn't feel any better, and now Clark was still against him, making Lex feel more alone than before. "Can I go now?"

"No." Clark stroked his thumb down Lex's face, and at least it was something, however faint. "I want to figure this out. Besides, your body can use the rest."

So, Lex was forced to lie there and listen to the wind howl outside the shelter, wincing every time the howling turned into a baby's cry as Clark thought about what was going on. Frankly, Lex didn't care. The fact was, he was going slowly insane, trapped inside his mind with a contemplative alien, listening to Julian scream his little dead heart out as he tried to come in from the snow, and facing a pissed off mother when he was allowed to leave.

"Okay, I know what's going on," Clark said at long last.

"Oh?" he replied listlessly.

"Yeah. Remember how after the tornado, you turned into a little kid?"

Not one of his finer moments, sobbing snot onto Clark's shirt like a toddler and not realizing, but, "Yes."

"I think this is like then. Your physical self in Kiptin, or whatever we are when we're here, is reflecting whatever your current mental state is. Right now, you're numb. You're upset and sad and depressed and too overwhelmed to deal with it all. So, in here, you're numb."

Lex shrugged. "Okay. Whatever. Can I go?" The wails were getting really loud now.

Clark lifted his head and looked at the ceiling. "What's that?"

"Nothing."

"Lex, what's going on?" Clark climbed back on top of him and cupped his face.

He started to tremble, but didn't answer.

Clark pressed their foreheads together again and started whispering. Words and sighs of love spilt over Lex. As they did, the wind began to die down. Julian quieted and calmed, apparently enthralled by Clark's warm assurances that everything was going to be all right. And that it was okay to be sad. And that he missed Ryan too, no, no, don't get upset. It's all right. You're just a little upset right now, but I'm here. I'm here. I'm here.

The wind and wails went away and Kiptin was bathed in silence except for the slow, comforting cracking of the fire. Beads of heat rolled down Lex's face and body until his fingers and toes tingled with blood and life. His stomach grew soft and muscles relaxed. He melted into the bed and, when he opened his eyes, he and Clark were back in his bedroom, cuddled together.

Clark was asleep, but only just. His hands held Lex with a possessive, protective need that wouldn't have been there otherwise. One leg was slung over Lex's hips, keeping him safe within the crook of Clark's body.

A glance at the clock revealed it was now four-thirty, nearly two hours since he'd come out. He didn't feel any more rested than he had before. He still felt exhausted. But there was a change; where before he'd felt exhausted and dry, too tired and too frozen to sleep, now he felt the warm waves of it washing against him, lulling his eyes closed.

He closed them, yawning hugely. Maybe just for a little bit. He'd just close his eyes for a while. His mind was calm and still for the first time in two weeks, and maybe, just maybe, the pressing guilt would stay away long enough for a dreamless rest.

* * *

"Uh-oh," Chloe sighed as she walked up the Kent's porch. "What happened?"

Clark and Lex were sitting on the porch swing, curled up in each other's arms. Steaming mugs of coffee rested on the railing in front of them, and empty, syrup-covered plates were at their feet.

Clark stirred at Chloe's voice and opened his eyes. Glancing at Lex, he put his finger over his mouth.

A surge of hope went through her. "Is he asleep?" she whispered.

"No," Lex sighed. He opened his bloodshot eyes. "He is not." He pulled away from Clark and sat up.

She fought back her own sigh of disappointment. Although she only really had the time and energy to concentrate on one of her boys, both of them worried her. Lex's sleeplessness was getting so profound, her father was bringing home reports of the dark circles under his haunted eyes.

"I send someone down to the lab to check on him every fifteen minutes or so," her father had told her the night before. "He never notices, he's so wrapped up in his work, but at least _I_ know that he hasn't fallen into all those chemicals."

"So," Chloe asked again, easing into Clark's lap, her legs across Lex's, "what's going on?"

"Damien was injured last night," Lex answered, gently stroking up and down her calf. "We were at the hospital with him until around midnight."

"Christ, what happened?"

"His wheelchair fell down the stairs and he was trapped under it," Clark said. "He'll be in traction for awhile, and have to stay in the chair for a lot longer."

"So they think he'll be able to walk?"

Lex shrugged. "Too soon to really tell, but if he does, he'll have to use a cane for the rest of his life.."

"Man," Chloe said. "How's he doing? You know, emotionally?"

"I don't know. I wasn't in the ambulance with him during the ride to the hospital." His eyes slid to Clark.

Clark shrugged. "He was in too much pain last night to be coherent about how he felt. I imagine he doesn't feel all that great right now, but we'll have to see."

"The bad thing is Dominic is in England right now and doesn't think he can make it back. Damien isn't exactly ... effusive about his feelings for Dominic, but I'm beginning to think they actually run pretty deep."

"You sound surprise," Chloe said.

Lex gave her a look. "A year ago, Damien told me that Dominic was a contemptible fool, or something like that. When they started sleeping together, it was casual. Extremely casual. But I don't think so anymore. There are moments when I see Damien look at Dom, or hear him talking to him on the phone, and the look in his eyes .... He's got that tone in his voice, too." Lex shrugged and squeezed her calf. "I think it's love. And I think Damien would be happier with Dom here."

"Maybe you can call later and convince him."

"Maybe." He yawned and laid his head on Clark's shoulder, closing his eyes.

Chloe checked her watch to see how much time they had before they needed to leave. She'd been coming every morning since Ryan's death for Clark. The first week, he hadn't gone to school, so she'd just sat and visited with him, combing her fingers through his hair as he struggled against falling asleep so they could talk. Once he'd transitioned back to school, they'd gotten into the habit of hitting the Talon first. That way, Clark could usually see Lex as he got his coffee for work, and he got a pick-me-up, which helped him stay awake during boring classes.

They might have to skip coffee this morning, but maybe that was okay. Clark had been doing better the past few days, and this morning he was up, dressed, and alert, which was a good sign. Even when he did his chores, he usually managed to squeeze in a nap before she got there, which was worrying; he was sleeping so, so much lately.

"You might want to get a card for Damien and pass it around the plant," Chloe said after a moment. "It'll make the workers feel more included."

Lex yawned again. "I'll call your father and ask him to do it. I can't go into work today." The last came out with bitter venom and his face twisted.

She had to fight back laughter. Sometimes, Lex was really too funny. "Why not?"

"Mrs. Kent says I have to stay home and sleep." He frowned, sticking his lower lip out slightly.

This time it was a lot harder to keep back the laughter. Lex was _pouting_ and it was just so precious to see. "Well, good. You need sleep." She reached over and took his hand. Squeezing it, she said, "I'm worried about you."

"Don't be. I'm fine." But he allowed her to continue holding his hand, which was new and definitely something she could deal with.

"So," Chloe asked after a moment. After a moment of extreme indecision, she pulled her hand from Lex's so she could lay comfortably against Clark. "Excited about this weekend?"

"Yeah," Clark said almost indifferently. Chloe could see the spasm of hurt go across Lex's face, but then Clark added, "I'm dying to get out of town for the weekend. I need some relaxation with my boyfriend." He caressed the back of Lex's neck.

Chloe smiled as Lex relaxed into Clark's caress. "What's on the agenda? Besides the opera, I mean."

"Science museum on Saturday afternoon, some fancy restaurant that evening, Harry Potter, the art museum, and the park on Sunday before we head home."

"Wow. Full weekend."

Lex looked at her, eyes heavy lidded. "Plans might always change, of course."

"Of course." She smiled at him. "I'm glad one of us is seeing Harry Potter, though. I almost went with Aaron, Sydney, and the bunch from the Center last Friday, but that was the weekend Nell got married, so I couldn't risk being too tired."

"And the fact that Sydney was going to be there?" Clark asked.

"Didn't go too much into my decision. We've been sort of e-mailing back and forth since we broke up. It's a little easier to talk when we don't have the whole Lana thing sitting between us anymore."

"How does she feel about Lana moving in with you?" Lex asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Uh ..." Chloe blushed.

"Ah."

"But," she added clearing her throat, "she does seem positive about the fact I've been asked out." She glanced at Clark out of the corner of her eye.

As predicted, he sat up a little straighter, and both his arms came around her waist. "By who?"

"Uh." She cleared her throat and then pasted on a bright smile. "By Chad, actually. Just last night."

"Chad?" Clark repeated.

"Chad?" Lex asked as Clark turned to rock underneath her.

"Chad," Chloe confirmed. Then, to Lex, she added, "The Goth boy? The only Goth boy? Brown hair, blue eyes? Black lipstick and nail polish. Often wears blue mascara, although sometimes it's just black, and face powder?"

"Ah, right. The queerling."

She laughed. "Ah, no. He's not. Well, when we were talking last night, he told me that he's bi-curious, but he's too shy to act on it." She looked at Clark. "He thinks you're really cute. He wanted to know if we were dating."

Clark's cheeks turned pink. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Actually, we started talking because he wanted me to look over the piece he's going to give you tomorrow. He wants to make sure it's perfect before giving it to you."

"What did you tell him when he asked if you and Clark were dating?" Lex didn't sound happy.

She took his hand again, feeling that he needed comfort. "I said as far as I knew Clark wasn't exactly looking for a boyfriend and smiled at him. How he took it, I don't know." Chloe licked her bottom lip thoughtfully. "Have you ever thought about coming out?"

"Like you have?"

"I'm not exactly hiding in the closet, but I also don't want to be known as that dyke reporter." Then she smiled. "Well, any more than I already am." She cocked her head. "What about you?"

Clark swallowed and shrugged and traced Lex's ear with his fingertip. "If I came out, everyone would figure out that I was with Lex. And I just don't want to deal with the repercussions of any of it right now."

"Yeah," Chloe said, nodding. "I understand."

"So, uh, like after Chad asked about me, he asked you out?" Clark asked.

"Well, not right away. He was pretty cool about it. We were going over what he'd written, which is actually not bad, and he asked about you. Then, about ten minutes later, he paid for my coffee. And then, just as we were packing up, he asked if I'd be interested in going out with him on Friday."

"And you said what?"

"I, uh, I told him I'd think about it." Her heart started fluttering and she had a hard time looking into his eyes. "Before I gave him a definite answer, I wanted to hear what you thought."

"Why should I care?"

"I don't know. I just thought you might. I don't know if it'd go anywhere or anything, but .... I guess what I'm asking is how are you doing lately, and would you mind if sometimes I'm preoccupied with a guy?" Chloe felt breathless after getting it out, her heart racing. She felt like a horrible, horrible friend for putting this on him right now, but she had to know.

Clark looked surprised and uncomfortable by her question, which, of course, had not been her intention. But he thought about it for a long moment quietly before saying, "I think Chad is a nice guy. He's a little dark and weird, but I think he's okay. But remember that you just broke up with Sydney, and ..."

"Clark," Lex interrupted, putting his hand on Clark's shoulder. "She's not asking for your opinion on Chad. She wants to know how this is going to affect you. Can you share her right now?"

His face turned bright red, filling in color from his cheeks over his entire face. "Oh." He cleared his throat, and then rubbed his nose. "Oh. Um, yeah, Chloe. You, uh, shouldn't have to feel like you have to ask for permission or anything."

"You're my best friend, Clark," Chloe said, touching his cheek gently. "And right now, you come first."

He turned his head and kissed the palm of her hand quickly. "Go out with him." Then he pulled away. "We should get to school. Will you be okay, Lex?"

"Yeah," Lex said with a heartfelt sigh. "Looks like I'm facing an afternoon of lying in bed, staring at the ceiling."

Clark gently nudged Chloe out of his lap and turned to Lex. Drawing him into his arms, he kissed Lex's temple gently and whisper just loudly enough for Chloe to hear, "Just relax. Take yourself away."

"You know I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"No."

"Lex," Clark sighed and then he pulled Lex against him, foreheads together, holding him tightly.

"No, I don't," Lex said out loud, which was confusing, but Chloe pretended she couldn't hear. Then he moved his head and she heard him whisper, "I don't want to go back."

"That's fine. But relax. Sleep." He kissed Lex and then held him tightly, the pain of the incumbent separation evident on his face.

At long last, Lex pulled away and managed a pained smile. "I'll be fine, Clark. I promise I'll try to sleep."

"Good." He took Lex's hand and kissed his fingertips.

"Have a good day. And no more trips to the bathroom, right?"

Chloe blushed and looked away. Clark had been leaving class during science and English every day for bathroom breaks. He always came back with mud and grass stains on his jeans and even Chloe, who was squeezing her eyes shut as hard as she could, finally had to mention it to Lex.

"Ready?" Clark asked, picking up his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder.

She took his hand and smiled brightly. "Ready. Sleep well, Lex."

"Thanks," Lex replied after a moment, as if he couldn't quite come up with the comeback he'd wanted.

She smirked at him a little and then led Clark to the car. "So," she said after starting the engine. She turned to him with a hopeful smile. "Today's going to be a good day, right?"

As usual, Clark thought about it for a long moment before nodding. "Yeah. It'll be a good day."

* * *

Lex had insisted on helping with the dishes, and, reluctantly, Martha had let him. At first, she'd wanted to wash while he dried, but it soon became obvious that it wouldn't work since Lex was fascinated by the bubbles. Several times he stopped what he was doing and allowed water to drip onto the floor as he gazed into the clouds of fluffy white foam, apparently entranced. In the end, Martha had stopped handing him dishes, instead washing and drying herself to save time.

When everything was washed, she turned to him and took the towel. "Lex?"

He blinked, eyes a little unfocused. "Yeah?"

"We're done."

"Oh. Sorry. I should have ... been more help." He scowled and stepped away from her.

Martha shook her head and walked across the kitchen to hang the towel up. "It's all right. You were plenty help." After hanging it neatly, she turned. "You should probably get back to bed soon. Would you like some warm milk? It might help you sleep."

His eyes rolled, his shoulders stiffened, and his jaw clenched. "Oh, yeah. Milk would be wonderful. Thanks," he said with so much sarcasm that Martha was impressed. Then, he shook his head and went into the living room.

"Do you want anything to eat?" she called as she pulled the milk out.

"I just ate breakfast." His tone told her that he was already pissed at her and she was treading to close to the line.

But Martha didn't care. When all was said and done, she felt it was an improvement that he was comfortable enough to be angry at her. Even after knowing her a little over a year, even after living under her roof, Lex still tended to be very respectful and a little formal with her. And, while it was nice to be revered and on the pedestal that he'd placed her on, she knew what he needed was a mother he could get angry with and throw temper tantrums around and then come back to for love when he was ready.

She hummed to herself as she stirred the milk in the saucepan. There wasn't a lot she had to do today, which was good. There were a few errands she had to take care of for Lionel, but most of that work she could do from home. It was an uneasy compromise she'd struck with him a few weeks back; twice a week, she was allowed to work from home, and then only days when they didn't have a meeting. Most of the paperwork and phone calls could be done from anywhere and although she put on a pleasant face around the man, she really couldn't stand to be around him for longer than a few hours.

Especially since he'd begun gently flirting with her all the time. And especially since, despite all she knew about him and as much as she hated him, there were moments when Martha found herself enjoying the verbal play with him and the thrill of matching her brains and wits against him.

It was exhausting being always on one's guard. Martha didn't think she could keep the job much longer, especially with the strain of grief upon her.

Lex wandered back into the kitchen. Without looking at her, he crossed the room and took a cookie from the cookie jar with an air of defiance.

Martha pulled a mug out of the cabinet and poured the milk into it. "Vanilla and sugar?" she offered.

"Whatever."

She sweetened it with a spoonful of sugar and splash of vanilla extract before handing it to him. "Here. Why don't you take it into the living room and curl up on the couch. That's where I usually relax when I can't sleep."

He gave her a withering look and then followed her advice.

She began to wash the saucepan. Damien, of course, would need some attention, but she wasn't exactly sure how to proceed. Flowers were traditional, but Damien didn't seem to be the flower type. Besides, it was also a little impersonal. She didn't know the man all that well, but they had been working together more frequently since she'd been working for Lionel. Or, at least, they'd spoken more frequently.

Perhaps some music, or books. Something to keep him occupied in the hosp ...

Glass shattered in the living room. The sound was followed by a muted thump and a soft, dry sob.

Martha dropped the pan and raced into the living room to find Lex, on the floor, milk and glass scattered around him. His forehead was pressed to his knees, one hand pushing into his temple and he rocked slowly. On the floor next to him was a picture of him and Ryan at the picnic, frame cracked in half.

"Lex," Martha said softly, crouching next to him.

"I hadn't seen this one," he said in a choked voice.

"I just framed it yesterday."

He shuddered and lifted his head. His eyes were bright with unshed tears, his face red. "I ... Oh, _God_ , Martha, I can't do this. I ..." His body convulsed and Martha thought he was going to throw up. But he only sobbed brokenly and lowered his head again.

Martha put her arms around him and held him tightly. "It's all right, Lex. Let it all out."

"I can't."

"Oh, baby, it's not going to hurt you." She caressed his back, pressing against his upper back hard. "Just let it out."

He pulled away and pressed the heels of his hands into his head. "I don't ... I don't know what to do. He .... He wasn't even my brother. I ..." He broke off, gasping.

"You cared for him, Lex."

" _No_."

"Yes. You did. Look at the picture." She picked it up and held it in front of his face.

He wouldn't look at it. "Mrs. Kent ..."

"Darling, please, look at it."

With a sniff that released a tear from his eyes, he did.

It was a beautiful picture. Ryan was partly in Lex's lap, holding his hands. His eyes were shining as he grinned up at Lex, mouth open as if in laughter. Lex had also been caught in an unguarded moment, and was smiling down at Ryan, nose wrinkled slightly, cheeks flushed. It'd been taken at Ryan's adoption picnic, and Martha strongly suspected that Ryan and Lex had actually been singing when it'd been taken. She remembered Ryan requesting a group sing-a-long of some Beatles song, one his mother's favorites. She remembered how he'd goaded Lex into singing too.

After a moment of gazing at the memory, Lex closed his eyes and looked away. His hand came up and pressed hard into his right temple. "I don't want to go crazy," he whispered in a shaken voice.

"What?"

His mouth crimped and he didn't answer at first. Finally, he shakily said, "I don't ... don't want to go crazy. I .... After Julian died, and my mom, I ... I couldn't find Kal. Dad sent me back to boarding school right away, and I was so alone. I was bald and ... unloved and I couldn't _fucking_ get into Kiptin. Kal had just disappeared, and I couldn't ... couldn't _deal_ with it all. There was too much, and .... I started hearing Julian. He cried so much. All the time, and Dad would get ... It bothered me. Bothered Dad. I tried to ..." He inhaled so hard, it physically hurt Martha to hear it. A moment later, he pulled his inhaler from his pocket and took a puff. "I kept hearing him, and I ... I took a blanket ...." He looked up at Martha and grabbed her, fingers bruising her arms. "I knew it wasn't him. I swear, I knew, but I kept hearing him. I went to the bell tower, where I went a few times so I could meet Kal, and I s-sang to the blanket. I thought it would stop the crying, but they just thought I was crazy. I .... Oh, God, I can't do that again." He stiffened, eyes squeezed shut, and covered his ears.

Martha's heart was pounding and she could feel her palms sweating. "Lex. Baby, it's okay. Okay? Listen to me." She put her arms around him and tried to pull him close. "Honey, we _all_ do strange things when we're grieving."

"No. I _hear_ him. I can hear him now, he's crying."

Her heart stuttered a moment, but she made herself accept what he said without judgment. "Then cry with him. Maybe he's crying because you're in so much pain. We're not meant to ... to hold so much inside us, Lex. When you're cut, you bleed. When you're hit, you bruise, and when you grieve, you cry. Let it out, baby. You're hurting so much. You love them, Ryan, Julian, your mother, and they're gone. It's okay to hurt."

Lex lifted his head. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because then it's real."

She looked at him sadly and touched his cheek. "Lex. It is real."

The shock of it caused his lips to tremble and a light of realization to blossom in his eyes. He inhaled sharply and started to shake hard.

Then the tears finally came. In deep, gusty, heaving sobs.

Martha let released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Gently, she guided him to her shoulder and rocked him. As she did, she stroked down his back and whispered soothing nothing in his ear.

His sobs were painful to hear. They were the rusty, choking sobs of someone who wasn't used to crying and wasn't quite sure how to just let go. His body jerked and trembled with each gasp and heave. Lex's fingers dug with bruising force into her shoulder and his tears soaked through her sweater.

Oh, God, both her boys hurt so much, she didn't know what to do. Particularly since, most mornings, it was hard to keep herself together. That precious little boy was dead, and there was nothing she could do. It hurt, but she had to concentrate on Clark and Lex and make sure _they_ were okay.

Lex was still crying, clutching her tightly, when Jonathan came and sat besides her. He didn't say anything, didn't touch Lex. He simply sat next to her and wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her tightly.

Martha rested her head on his shoulder, feeling herself shake slightly. It wasn't until he wiped the tears from her cheeks that she realized she was crying, too.

Almost twenty minutes passed before Lex's sobs turned to sniffles. He kept his face pressed into Martha's shoulder, body trembling in a kind of exhausted tension

"Lex?" she said softly, putting her hand on the back of his neck.

He went stiff and sat up suddenly. His eyes were swollen and red from crying, and his ears and cheeks were red from embarrassment. As he avoided her eyes, he wiped the back of his nose with his sleeve, and then, turning a deeper red, took a tissue from Jonathan.

"I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely.

"Don't be, baby." Martha leaned into him and kissed his cheek gently. "Do you want to talk?"

He swallowed. "There's nothing to say."

"Lex--" But she broke off, knowing he was right. This in of itself was a breakthrough, and until the next was reached, there was nothing Lex could say. So she let it drop and put her hand on his tear stained cheek. "Do you think maybe you want to go to bed?"

Lex's eyes fell shut and he leaned into her hand. "Yes," he whispered. "I think I can sleep, now."

"Good." She rose, pulling him up with her. Then, she wrapped her arms around him and held him in a hard hug. "You loved Ryan, Lex. And you're not crazy for missing him, and you won't go crazy with grief. We're here for you."

Jonathan put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "We are, Lex."

He nodded, still hiding his face and clung to Martha. "I didn't want him to die," he whispered.

"I know, baby. None of us did. Even knowing it was going to happen, we still didn't want it to. That's why it hurts so much."

* * *

"Clark?" Mr. Townsend said quietly as he was taking his seat.

Clark looked up and sighed. Then he set his backpack in his chair and pushed through the crowd of kids still standing next to their desks, determined to talk until the last possible second when the bell for class rang.

"Yes?" he asked, scrubbing at his nose with the back of his tee-shirt covered hand.

"Go wash up in the bathroom and then wait outside for me."

"No. It's okay. I'm fine."

He pressed his lips together, looking unhappy. "Do as I asked, or you can just get your things and go see Mr. Font right now. It's up to you."

He sighed and scrubbed his eyes again. "Fine." Then he turned on his heel and stalked to the bathroom.

Today was sucking hard. It'd started out okay, and then, about an hour after he'd gone to school, Lex had started crying. Clark had managed to block him out until sometime last period, when waves of intense sorrow had crashed over him. When he'd opened his mind, all he'd gotten from Lex was incredible sadness and, finally, it had been too much. He's spent the last half of the class in the bathroom crying, but he'd thought he'd gotten it mostly under control.

Apparently not.

He washed his face until the coldness seemed to seep into him. Then he pulled out his phone and called home.

"Kent residence."

"Hey, Mom?" Clark shifted against the sink, feeling uncertain.

"Honey. Is everything all right?"

"I guess." He swallowed. "How's Lex?"

She sighed. "Okay. He's asleep, I think. Finally."

"Can you go check on him? Please?"

"What's wrong?"

Clark felt tears welling up in his eyes again, but he pushed them away forcefully. "Nothing. Probably. I just ... I'm getting a lot of sadness from him right now, and I think he needs someone. Even if he's sleeping. Just to wake him from whatever's making him so sad."

"Okay. I'll go wake him up and see if he wants anything to drink. He was crying pretty hard earlier; his throat might be sore."

"Thank you, Mom."

"Of course," she replied with a smile on her voice. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be okay. Just check on him."

"I will. I love you, Clark."

"Me too, Mom." Clark hung up, took a deep breath, and went back to class.

The class was quiet when Clark returned, all bent over their textbooks, reading. Mr. Townsend stood at the front of the room, writing on the board. When Clark stepped inside, Mr. Townsend waved him back out, following. The door closed so he and Mr. Townsend were standing alone in the silent halls.

"What's going on?" Mr. Townsend asked without preamble.

Clark sighed and scrubbed his eyes. "Nothing. I'm fine. Bad morning." He sighed again. "Lex's assistant got hurt last night, and we were at the hospital for a long time. And then he couldn't sleep and got into a fight with my mom or something. I ..." He dropped his hands. "He's not doing very well. With this. Ryan dying. I don't even think he's said Ryan's name since the funeral. He's just so ... _angry_ at everything, and I don't know what to do."

He leaned against the wall and looked thoughtful. "Well, people do grieve in different ways. It's unfortunate you can't both be on the same page, but ..."

"It's not even that," Clark interrupted. "He's all keen on me exploring my feelings, and will sort of listen, but it's so ... one sided. The moment I ask for his opinion, or how he's feeling on things, he clams up, changes the subject, and gets all weird." He sighed. "I'm worried about him."

"I know." He put his hand on Clark's shoulder. "But you can't help him if he doesn't want to be helped."

Clark licked his lips. "But I can't watch him suffer like this."

"I know." He sighed. "Do you want me to try and talk to him? Try something?"

"I don't know."

"I want to help, Clark. I genuinely like Lex. I'd like to do something to help him." He shrugged and looked, for a moment, a little helpless.

Clark rubbed his eyes again, feeling very tired. "Lex has trust issues. He doesn't understand ... friends very well. And I know that sounds stupid, but what he knew in Metropolis was different. And the people he knew ... they weren't friends."

"I'll keep that in mind."

But still Clark wasn't sure. Because Mr. Townsend was his teacher, and Lex was in such a weird place. Because you didn't just become friends with someone like Lex, not without scaling castle walls and getting torn up by briars. Because Clark really like Mr. Townsend, and liked having someone sane to talk to, and he didn't want Lex to be so scathing in the words he used in his defensiveness that Mr. Townsend decided that both of them weren't worth it.

"I don't know," he said softly, not meeting Mr. Townsend's eyes.

Mr. Townsend stepped closer. "Clark, are you all right with Lex and me being friends?"

"I want Lex to have friends."

"Yes, I know. But do you want him to be friends with _me_?" He was standing directly in front of Clark now, very close.

Clark shrugged. "Why should it matter? I mean, a friend is a friend, right?"

"But I'm your teacher. And, by now, I hope you know that you can turn to me for any problems you might have. So our relationship is a little different than that of a teacher and student, and I realize that you might be afraid our ... friendship, such that it is, might change because of my friendship with Lex."

"That's stupid," he protested out of habit, but then he wilted under Mr. Townsend's knowing eyes. "It's just, Lex can be such a jerk sometimes. And he knows exactly what to say to make the cut go to the bone. I guess I'm afraid that he'll say something to you and ..."

"And I won't want to talk to you anymore," Mr. Townsend filled in for him. He sighed. "Do you really think Lex thinks so little of you? That he'd be willing to compromise our friendship to prevent me from getting close?"

Clark shrugged. "He wouldn't do it consciously. But it still might happen."

Mr. Townsend put his hands on Clark's arms and looked earnestly into his eyes. "Clark, I promise that no matter what Lex says to me, it will not affect our relationship. You are my student and, beyond that, I enjoy our conversations and the incredible trust you show in me by allowing me read what you write. I won't _let_ Lex drive me away from that. Okay?"

"Okay," Clark agreed after a moment, smiling shakily. "Then I'm fine."

"Good."

"Lana's having a party tonight. To pack up all her stuff to move on Sunday. I don't think Lex is going to want to go. Maybe you two could do something."

Mr. Townsend nodded. "I just happen to be free tonight. I'll see if I can meet up with him."

"Thanks."

* * *

"Lex?" a warm voice swam through his dreams. "Lex, honey, wake up."

He rolled away from the voice and clutched Julian to him tighter. He'd keep him quiet and then maybe ...

Wait, no, it wasn't Julian, it was Ryan. And there was blood everywhere, and he was crying, begging for it to stop. Lex had to make it stop, but he knew it was too late and ...

"Lex!" He was shaken roughly.

"What?" he shouted, sitting up quickly. The pillow was still clutched to his chest, tears clogged in the corners of his eyes.

Martha was sitting on the edge of the bed. Her eyes were wide, hand pressed to her heart, and breathing a little fast.

Lex immediately cringed. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay. You were asleep." She wiped a tear from his face with her thumb. "I brought you some tea." Martha turned and picked the tea cup from a tray she'd set on the night table. "I know that when I've been crying for a long time, tea makes me feel a little more human."

"Thanks," Lex said. He took the cup from her.

"Honey. Let go of the pillow."

He flushed, realizing that he was still holding it tight. Lex set it aside and gripped the cup with both hands, not looking at her.

Martha rose and started straightening the rumpled bedclothes. "You still have to sleep. You aren't getting out of this bed unless it's to go to the bathroom. You've only been sleeping for a few hours, and that's not enough."

"I know." He yawned, feeling sleep tugging him back. "But can I call the office?"

"No."

He frowned and sipped the tea.

"So," Martha said after a moment. She sat back on the bed and gazed at him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Lex ..."

"I went insane, all right? Is that what you want to hear?" he snapped. "I used to sing to fucking blankets like they were my brother, and rock them to sleep because I could hear him crying in my head. They stuck me on drugs, put me into therapy, and took Julian and Kal away from me." His throat ached as he said the last, tears pressing behind his eyes.

Martha stroked his arm comfortingly. "This happened after Julian died?"

"After Mom died. They went ... really soon after each other. Julian in March. Then Mom got sick. The psychologist said that I got so wrapped up in Mom being sick, I never had time to grieve for Julian. That's why I heard Julian in my head and saw a little boy, and Mom wasn't there." He sniffed and took another drink.

"How did he die?"

Tears obscured his vision and Lex shook his head. "I can't," he whispered.

"Lex, please. I want to know."

"I don't want you to hate me."

"I could never hate you, Lex. Especially for anything you may have done when you were a child," she said evenly. There was still warmth in her voice, and when he lifted his eyes, she was looking at him with love.

He closed his eyes and swallowed. "Julian was always crying. Always. Colic, I guess, or something. He was sick. Sickly. And Dad would get irritated. Yell at the nanny to make him shut up, or yell at Mom for having another invalid. This one time, Dad was working in his office, and Julian was crying. Mom wasn't home, and the nanny was so frustrated. She was drinking, so I took Julian into my room. I'd done it before, a few times. To help out. I s-sang to him and tried to calm him down. Finally, he stopped crying, so I put him on my bed and s-started to r-read to him. And I fell asleep. I ... I .... Dad woke me up, asking what I'd done. He started yelling, screaming. He hit me." Lex touched the scar on his upper lip with a shaky finger. "Somehow, Julian had rolled into the wall. Or I'd rolled onto him. His sk-skull had been crushed where the s-soft spot was." He dropped the tea and grabbed her. "Don't tell Clark."

Martha pulled Lex to her and held tightly. "Oh, Lex. Oh, my poor baby." She was crying as she rocked him, holding him tightly. "Lex, honey, it wasn't your fault."

"Yes it was."

"No. It wasn't your fault. You were a child, Lex, and a child trying to please his parents and help his brother. What you did wasn't malicious, and it certainly wasn't _wrong_. Parents sleep with their children on the bed all the time."

"But because of me, Julian is dead."

Martha sighed and pressed her hand hard into his back. "There are things in life we can't control. I can't have children. Ryan had an inoperable tumor. Julian died of a horrible accident. Damien was hurt in a tornado. Lana's parents were crushed by a meteor rock in a shower I thank God every day happened." She pulled back and looked into Lex's face with tear filled eyes. "I know about guilt, Lex. Every time Clark comes home from fighting another child mutated by the rocks, I feel this intense wave of it. There have been so many misfortunes, so many people hurt, so many lives altered because of that meteor shower, and all I can see is the one good thing. I wouldn't give up Clark for anything, even to save human lives, and that's something I have to live with. Just like you have to live with the fact that you took Julian into your room for a nap, and he died."

Tears spilled over onto his cheeks.

"You can't blame yourself, Lex. It wasn't your fault."

"But ..."

"It _wasn't_ your fault. You are as much a victim as he was. You were a child, a victim, blameless. It simply happened." She wiped the tears away. "Just like Ryan. You did everything you could for him. You found the doctor, you stayed with him to keep the noise down in his head. You arranged the balloon ride and the picnic and the adoption." Her voice broke. "God, Lex, you did so much for him. You were even there when he died, and I know how much death scares you. Why do you blame yourself for what happened?"

"Because Clark is so scared of being left alone," he answered, shaking. "He doesn't want to be left alone, but he's going to have to watch everyone he loves die. If I can figure out how to stop that ... I can keep him happy."

Martha pulled him to her again. "You can't stop life, Lex."

"I just wanted to stop one person from dying."

"Lex," she whispered into his ear. "Let him go. Let both of them go. You need to rest."

"I can't." His voice cracked and he felt as if he were being torn apart.

Suddenly, she pulled away, and Lex had to bite his lip to keep from sobbing at the loss. But she didn't go far, merely framed his face with her hands and looked at him for a moment. "Lex. Has anyone ever forgiven you for what you did?"

Stupid concept. As if anyone cared. Dad may have told him a million times it wasn't his fault, but Lex knew the truth. He knew what Dad had really been thinking all those time, had really been saying. Mom had been too sick, and the psychologist--or had he been a psychiatrist? Must have been. He'd plied Lex with drugs until the crying had stopped and then gradually taken him off until Lex could find his own drugs. Forgiveness didn't figure into any of that.

His silence must have been all the answer she needed, because her face grew hard. Then, she pushed it away and moved closer. "Lex, I forgive you for the accident. It wasn't your fault, it just happened. You need to forgive yourself, baby. I have."

It shouldn't work. It was stupid. Stupid, dumb, idiotic psychology that she'd learned at college. He'd seen the best. He'd been to the most expensive doctors in the United States. Being forgiven by this woman shouldn't mean a thing.

So why did he dissolve? And why did he suddenly feel ten pounds lighter? Why didn't the sobs being torn from his chest hurt as much, and why had he fallen into her as if she were his last refuge?

It didn't matter. It didn't. But, for just this moment, it felt as if it did.

* * *

Chloe was humming softly to herself as she wrote up the week's editorial. This was one of those weeks when the words poured out of her in a manageable, easy way. She knew that there wouldn't be a lot of rewriting or editing for this one. It was a simple, straightforward, and scathing critique on the deplorable state of the supplies at school. They couldn't do dissections in biology because the scalpels were dull and didn't cut anything. She knew that the chemistry class was only doing basic experiments due to lack of any good chemicals. Gym was down to three soccer balls, one volleyball, and two serviceable basketballs. English barely had enough novels to pass around during class, and the textbooks were almost twelve years old.

"Good education comes from good teachers, yes," Chloe wrote, "but even the best of teachers need adequate resources to help guide their students to knowledge. When students are denied the experience of conducting their own experiments in the school's laboratory, denied their right to a an hour of exercise in gym, or denied the pleasure of immersing themselves in a novel chosen by their teacher to expand their minds, their right to education is taken away. In today's society, you rarely find a student so self-motivated that he ..."

"Hey," a voice interrupted her.

She gasped and shook her head, feeling as if she were waking from a trance. Blinking, she tried to focus on the face gazing at her from the other side of the computer screen. "Chad?"

"Yeah. Am I interrupting?" He seemed unsure and tentative.

"No, not at all." Chloe hit save and rose from the computer. "I was just on my soapbox, that's all. No biggie." She smiled. "So. What brings you here?"

Chad smiled almost shyly at her and gazed at her from under a fringe of blue-black lashes. "I was looking for you, actually. I hoped that you'd thought about what going out with me and had a answer. And I hoped that answer would be yes."

She couldn't help the smile that crossed her face. Most people assumed Chad was cold and aloof since was so quiet and, well, weird. He spent most of his time either reading, listening to his Discman, or gazing silently at the throngs of people. He did have his own small group of girls who loved to do his make-up and pretend to be cool, but, mostly, he kept to himself and thus got his reputation for unfriendliness.

Chloe knew differently, and had ever since Chad had borrowed her eyeliner last spring. They'd struck up a conversation, and then an acquaintanceship that had grown into more since school had started. She'd known from the beginning that Chad was adorable, and that she was attracted to him, but when they'd first started talking, she'd been getting over Lana, getting over Justin, and getting into Sydney, so she hadn't wanted to pursue anything.

Now, though ...

"Um, yeah, I do have an answer," she said, feeling herself blush. "I'd like to go out with you." She shrugged and looked away.

"Cool. So, uh, dinner and the movies this Saturday?"

"Sounds good." Chloe looked back and smiled.

He was grinning from ear to ear. "Great. I'll pick you up around seven, okay?"

"Okay." She cleared her throat, feeling a little awkward suddenly. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Me, too." Chad stepped closer to her, blue eyes dark. "I've had a crush on you for a long time, but never had the guts to ask you out before."

She smiled slightly. "I'm, uh, actually glad you waited. I was involved with someone before, and would have had to turn you down."

He took her hand. "So, it's like fate, right? Me getting the nerve at the right time."

"Fate," she repeated, and then closed her eyes as his mouth fell over hers in a light, tingle-inducing kiss.

Her heart rate shot up to astronomical levels, and her knees went a little weak. Fuck; she'd known she was attracted to him, but she hadn't realized exactly _how_ attracted. This was like Lex-level of shakiness here, and her panties were suddenly a little damper than before.

Chad pulled back and twined his fingers in her hair. "Sorry," he whispered. "I don't mean to move too fast."

"No, it's fine." She kissed him back and parted her mouth slightly.

His tongue peeked out of his mouth and slid into hers. She swallowed hard and pushed herself into him, wrapping her arms around his body.

"Oh. Sorry," Clark said flatly.

She pulled away, face boiling. "Clark. Hey."

Chad turned, one hand still resting lightly on Chloe's hip. "Hey, Clark. How's things?"

"Good. Fine. You?"

"Looking really good, actually," he replied with a huge grin.

Clark didn't seem as happy, but he went for something that almost resembled a smile. "Yeah. Cool." He set his backpack on a desk. "Mind if I use the computer?"

"Go ahead," she replied, trying not to sigh. Clark was hurt for some reason, and it pissed her off because she'd just asked Clark if he'd mind.

He sat down at the computer and started working on whatever he was working on. Chloe turned in Chad's arms to face him. "So. I have finish up on my editorial."

"Okay. I should head to class. I have gym this period, which I don't do if I can avoid it, so that's why I dropped by." He kissed her again. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Yeah," Chloe said, unable to stop the grin spreading across her face. "You have my cell, right?"

"By heart." They kissed and he pulled away. "So, uh, Clark? Did you get to read my piece yet?"

Clark looked up. "Um, I'm sorry Chad, but not yet. I've been distracted. I promise I'll get to it by Monday."

Chad nodded. "Okay. Cool. I'll see you later."

"Bye, Chad."

Chloe waited until the door had closed behind Chad before crossing the room. "You said you'd be okay with this."

"I am okay with it."

"No. You're acting like a spoiled brat whose toy is playing with the neighbor's toy." Then, at his smirk, she scowled at him and said, "I did _not_ mean for that to sound so dirty. What's going on with you?"

He sighed and pulled away from the computer. "I'm sorry. I didn't think it would bother me, and it does. I mean, not the idea of you with Chad, but I don't like to watch you kissing other guys."

"Possessive much?"

"Yeah." He rolled the chair over to her and put his hands on her waist. "You're my best friend, and sometimes it all get twisted up in my mind and, I don't know. I guess that, despite having Lex, I still want to be first. Which isn't fair, but it's my reaction. I promise, though, that I'll be good."

Chloe brushed Clark's hair from his forehead. "Are you sure? Because I can tell him I can't go out."

"Chloe, you so obviously really like him. What kind of friend would I be if I kept you from that?"

She bent down and kissed him lightly on the lips. "A bad friend. But I'd love you anyway." She kissed him again. "You know you always come first."

"I shouldn't. Your boyfriend should."

"When I think I've met my answer to Lex, then he'll come first. Until then, whoever I'm with will just have to _think_ they come first, but my heart really belongs to you."

Clark hugged her tightly, eyes squeezed shut. "I love you, Chloe."

"Yeah, Clark. Me too."

* * *

Waking the second time was a lot easier than the first time. His head was quiet, for starters, and there were no dreams. The room was cool and crisp, and he was alone.

Lex sighed and rolled onto his back. It was late afternoon, he could tell by the way the light streamed in through the window. He'd slept more than he'd slept in a long time, but he wasn't sure if he felt any more refreshed. His head ached, faintly, but with persistence, and his nose was clogged. His eyes itched and throat scratched. His stomach ached with hunger or exhaustion, and every limb felt weighed down by a thousand pounds.

"Fuck," he whispered.

He'd never told anyone about Julian. The psychiatrist had known, of course. The headmaster who'd found him--not Reynolds, thank God--knew. Dad knew. Dad. Who constantly told him that it wasn't his fault, but, somehow, all Lex could remember was his voice clearly stating that Lex had killed Julian and it was all his fault that his mother was dead.

Embarrassing, really. Not only that he'd let it all come out, but to realize that _this_ was what had been really bothering him since Ryan's death. Well. Ryan dying had been hard. He'd loved the kid, and it had physically hurt to lose him. And there was a nagging sense that he should have done more, kept Ryan alive, had him taken to a hospital sooner, kept closer tabs on him in the first place to make sure something like this hadn't happened.

But, in the end, his guilt had been compounded by past grief and guilt about Julian. Julian, whom he'd loved, loathed, and worshiped and who had died in his bed.

He coughed and sat up. He was awake now, and it was time to face the world again.

Groaning softly, he poured himself out of bed and managed to crawl to the bathroom. Twenty minutes and probably all the hot water in the house later, he felt almost human. He dressed in a lavender long sleeved tee and black slacks, brushed his teeth and, after dancing in the doorway uncertainly for a long moment, went downstairs.

"Hey," Martha said when he entered the kitchen. She was sweaty and dirt stained, as if she'd come in from working outside. "How are you?"

He thought about giving her a flip answer, but none came to him. The darkness that had been growing inside him since Ryan's death was still there, only now it was leeching his will to do anything away. He'd been frightened before by the slight heaviness to his body, and his inability to sleep, and the strange disconnect he felt from the world, but now it was ten times worse. It was as if something had been uncovered by his breakdown rather than the pain easing.

Lex rubbed his eyes and said despondently, "It doesn't make anything better, does it?"

A creased appeared between Martha's eyebrows and her eyes lit with sadness. "Crying?"

"Yeah."

"Not right away, no. But it helps in the healing process." She went to him and put her hand on his shoulder. "It _does_ get better, Lex. With time. I promise."

"And, in the meantime, it fucking sucks," he answered simply, without rancor.

She nodded. "It does."

He held her eyes for a long moment, and then looked at his shoes. "I should go see how Damien's doing."

"Okay. Are you going to come back after? Stay the night?"

"I don't know." He sighed. "Even though I get him all weekend, I don't want to be without Clark. I'll see what happens."

"If you end up at your place, call. And, call me, any time you need anyone, Lex."

"Yeah," he said with a stiff nod. Then he looked back at her, feeling himself soften. "I will. Thank you." He leaned in and kissed her cheek.

Martha caught him and held him to her for a long moment. "I love you, Lex."

"Me too," he whispered back, voice catching. Then he kissed her cheek again and quickly left.

The trip to the hospital revealed that Damien was comfortably asleep and recovering from surgery. Dominic had called in earlier, and had since dropped off the face of the earth. If Lex hadn't been so certain of Dominic's unswerving devotion to Damien, he might have been suspicious. But it was Dominic, so he probably had a good excuse.

After leaving the hospital, he wasn't quite sure what to do. After today's embarrassing display, he didn't want to go back to the Kents', at least not without Clark. And all that waited for him at home was a bunch of cold stones, an empty kitchen (well, Lilah was there, but she couldn't cook like Mabel could) and his father.

So, the Talon and the Friday night crowd of horny teenagers. And, to make it extra enticing, there was the coffee that he wasn't allowed to drink. Ah, well. After all this time it was clear that Lex _was_ a masochist. It was about time he embraced it.

He pushed through the throng, not even able to muster enough emotion to be pleased at the thriving business being done. It was all pocket change to him, not that pocket change was anything to be sneered at, but ....

God. He was so _dead_ right now. Normally, he'd be pleased simply because his father thought this venture was such a waste of time and money. It wasn't, but Lex couldn't even muster enough energy to do even internal gloating.

"Lex!" an overly enthusiastic voice sailed over the noise. A moment later, Chloe appeared before him, pink cheeked and glowing, looking at him as if he were a long lost lover. "Hey." She put her arms around him and hugged. "How are you?"

"Fine." He pulled away, but allowed her to take his hand and start leading him through the crowd to the counter.

"I'm glad you showed up. We're all getting ready to go over to Lana's for a packing party, and want you to come, too. But we weren't sure when you'd materialize, because when we called your place, Mrs. Kent said you'd gone to the hospital."

"Oh."

They stopped at the counter, where Lana was waiting for them.

"Hey, Lex," she said, smiling at him tentatively. "Want something to drink?"

He shrugged. "Sure."

She slid out of her seat and went around the counter. He hadn't even bothered to order, but it didn't matter what she put in front of him. It would probably all taste the same.

When Lana was gone, Chloe climbed onto the stool, still holding his hand. "So," she said, looking at him keenly. "How are you?"

"Fine," he replied with an indifferent shrug.

"Fine?" She obviously didn't believe him. "Did you sleep?"

"Yeah."

Chloe tilted her head as if to get a better look. "Good. I, uh, wanted you to know, though, that Clark had kind of a rough morning. He started crying, spent most of trig in the bathroom. The, uh, bathroom at school."

Lex cleared his throat, thankful for the clarification, but wishing he and Chloe could stop dancing around this and just get it out in the open. But, she didn't want to for some reason, so he only said, "And how was he the rest of the day?"

"He was okay. Not the greatest, but okay. I just though you should know."

"Thanks." He squeezed her hand and let go. Then, as he saw Clark make his way to the counter, he felt something in him break free and wake. "Clark. Hey."

"Hey." Clark came up to him, hands shoved into his pockets. Lex could tell he was itching to reach out and caress Lex, and while Lex wouldn't mind it, exactly, he pulled away. "You okay?" /I heard what happened./

/I'm fine. And I _don't_ want to talk about it./

/Okay./

Which was way too easy, but Lex accepted it for what it was. Clark would press later, he'd cave, and life would go on.

"Here you go, Lex. One decaf cafe au lait." Lana slid it over the counter and then leaned across it.

"Thank you." He took a long drink, sighing as he did. It might not have the caffeine kick, but it held all the comfort he needed right now. And, as much as he hated to admit it, Lana knew just how he liked it. Which was wrong. Not that she shouldn't, because she made his drink so much, it was just wrong that Lana knew exactly how to prepare his favorite drink and Clark didn't.

Which meant that he'd have to buy an espresso machine for home and teach Clark how to steam the milk just right. And add the right sweetener to it; the boy had been making Chloe coffee too long. He probably dumped a ton of sugar in the cup.

Lex was distracted from his wandering thoughts by Lana leaning across the counter to him. Her blouse gapped open, revealing her lacy bra, and damn he was going to have to find some long pins soon and gouge his eyes out.

"So," Lana said innocently, obviously unaware that she was baring her assets, "I'm having a packing party at my house. To pack all my stuff for the move on Sunday. We're waiting for Pete to show up before we go. Nell's getting Chinese and pizza and sodas and snacks and stuff. We were going to play music, maybe have a movie going or something. You know. Fun stuff." She smiled hesitantly. "Did you want to join us?"

God, why had he come here? Was he even here? It really felt as if he were still asleep. Or at least, it felt as if he were wrapped in a yard of cotton.

Everyone was looking at him worriedly.

"No, thanks," he said upon realizing they were waiting for an answer. "I'm really not feeling all that well. I would bring down the mood."

Lana's mouth turned down slightly, but it seemed more in sympathy than disappointment. "Well, okay," she said after a moment. "But if you change your mind, we'll probably be there late. I've got a lot of stuff."

Lex tried to smile, but it seemed to scare Lana, so he dropped it. "I'll keep that in mind."

Clark moved closer to him. "Do you want me to come home with you?"

"No, Clark. You go to the party." But he closed his eyes and leaned slightly into him, drinking in his warmth.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure." He pulled away and turned so he could smile at Clark. "Come over when you're done?"

"I will."

Lex smiled and gave Clark the mental equivalent of a kiss. Then he said, "Bye, girls, have fun packing." Then he turned and waded back through the crowd, wondering what the hell he was going to do.

"Lex!"

Everyone was just so excited to see him today. And it honestly took Lex a moment to recognize the face smiling into his.

"Mark," he managed. "Hi."

"How are things?"

Lex shrugged. "Happening whether I want them to or not."

"That bad?"

"Not great." He took a sip of his drink, the wheels in his head turning painfully. Then he shrugged; it was better than nothing. "Are you busy?" he asked.

"Not at all. I was actually hoping to bump into you. Looks like I lucked out."

Lex managed a small smile at the genuine warmth in Mark's voice. He wasn't sure if Mark were really serious about being happy to see him, or if he were simply that good an actor, but something in Lex responded anyway.

"I guess you did," he said, voice almost monotone despite himself. "So, uh, do you like _Star Wars_?"

"Yes, I do," Mark replied, seeming a little confused.

He nodded. "I have the trilogy. And a television."

"Ah. Yeah, that sounds good. Just, uh, lead the way."

Lex laughed as they walked back to their cars. "Trust me, it's not hard to find. You drive out of town until you hit the castle. Then you're there."

Mark's laughter floated lightly on the early evening air. "I'll be sure to remember that. But, just in case, drive slow."

He snorted. "I'll do my best, but I make no promises."

* * *

"Do we let them go?"

Martha sighed and leaned into Jonathan's embrace. "We have to. I promised Lex that if he stayed home from work today, they could go. He did, he slept, he had a breakthrough, so they go."

"Yeah, but ... God. That was painful."

"It's also a first step." She looked up at him. "I'm just as afraid as you that he'll do something this weekend. That they won't have fun. That he'll try and drag Clark out into club or do drugs or something. But we have to trust both him and Clark."

"I know." He sighed. "But why can't we trust them here?"

She laughed. "Because it doesn't work that way. They've been planning this since the summer, Jonathan. And they've been through so much this year. They deserve a weekend alone, a change of scenery, and a chance to relax. Besides. It's their anniversary."

"Really?"

"One year on November 26."

"Wow." He shook his head. "I wouldn't have thought he'd have it in him."

"Who, Lex?"

"Either of them, actually. Clark was just a boy when they got together. He was in love with Lana. He ... It's amazing how fast he grew."

Martha turned to him and kissed his cheek. "He's still our boy, Jonathan. He'll always be, and he'll always need us. We just ... share him with Lex, now." She smiled. "But, it was a good trade, because we got Lex as well."

Jonathan pushed hair of her head and smiled fondly at her. "You really think they'll make it."

"I look at them and see forever."

"Just like when I look at you."

"Yeah," she whispered, kissing him gently. "Me too."

* * *

The first two hours were agony. Pure and absolute. Lex had no idea what he was supposed to do with a friend he wasn't A. trying to impress with his wealth or B. trying to fuck. They made it back to the mansion without anyone getting lost. They'd made it inside and up to the entertainment room without running into Dad, and although Lex had apparently confused Lilah by his request for snacks (he'd ended up having to explain explicitly that he did not mean caviar and champagne, but chips and dip. He thought she was going to quit at the indignity of it all and desperately wished Mabel was home.), they had managed to comfortably ensconce themselves and start the movie.

Well, Mark had been comfortably ensconced, sprawled out on a cushy seat in adjacent to the sofa; Lex had sat stiffly, every muscle tense and a headache brewing behind his eyes. In fact, all through _Empire Strikes Back_ he'd sat, stiff and nervous, reading too much into every little movement Mark made. He could hardly be blamed, he felt; after all, had this been Metropolis .... Well, if this had been at any point in his history before meeting Clark, they'd have already fucked by now. Lex would have done something--a look, a gesture, a soft touch--to make Mark think that he was receptive, and then sat back until Mark made his move.

So, Lex had to make extra certain that he didn't fall into old patterns and give permission. In fact, he had to give Mark every impression that _nothing_ was going to happen.

Which was why it was so embarrassing when, at the end of the first movie, Mark had looked at him, smiled gently, and said, ""I can leave, if you would be more comfortable."

"I'm fine."

"You look as if you're going to break." He sat up and turned to him. "Look, Lex, I'm not going to make a pass at you. For one thing, I respect Clark too much to and, for another, that's definitely not what you need right now. So just relax."

Mark was just charming and sincere enough that Lex managed to relax. Just a little. And he had broken out the alcohol when they started their second movie, but just to spice up the hot chocolate he'd convinced Lilah to bring up. Then, as they watched the movie--one of the _Horatio Hornblower_ miniseries--they'd fallen into a comfortable routine of making wise cracks about the sailors, comments on the historical inaccuracies and contradictions from the books, and, at one point, popcorn tossing at the screen for reasons Lex really couldn't remember.

And now, four and a half hours after Mark had arrived, Lex realized he was having fun.

"Can I ask you a question?" Mark asked suddenly, glancing over at Lex.

Lex felt his backbone stiffen slightly, sensing that the question was not going to be movie related. "Yes," he replied guardedly.

"I, uh, had given Clark a book to read. To sort of help him understand what he's facing. It's called _On Death and Dying_ , by ..."

"I've read it." His voice was a lot sharper than he'd intended, so he made an effort to tone it down. "Years ago."

Mark nodded. "Okay. But, if you want to ..."

"I can still recite passages from it. Do you want me to?"

There was a short pause as Mark studied Lex. Then, he glanced away and said, "I've made you angry."

Lex shook his head, his jaw so tight it ached. "Not at all. I would just like to go five minutes without someone checking in to see how the I'm feeling, that's all."

"Then it's a good thing I waited four hours to bring it up," Mark said with a disarming smile.

"Yes, but ..." He couldn't think of a but. Mark was right; he hadn't said anything for four hours and, in that time, Lex had been blessedly distracted.

He swallowed whatever words he'd been planning on saying and, instead said, "I'm fine. Well, not _fine_ , but I don't need a book to help me understand what I'm going through." Then he felt a flush steal over his cheeks because, if anything, this experience was proving that he didn't know one damn thing about how to grieve. But a book wouldn't help. Probably.

Mark nodded and shifted around in his chair. "Well," he said, sipping his hot chocolate, "if you ever want to talk, you can call me."

Lex snorted and tried not to roll his eyes.

"You do know that I won't tell Clark anything you say to me, right? And I won't tell you anything he says."

"That's comforting."

"You don't trust me."

"It's nothing personal. I don't trust most people."

Again his eyes turned to Lex, intently studying. "You must be lonely."

Lex shrugged uncomfortably. "Most of the time, I'm too busy to feel lonely. Besides, I'm used to it."

"I don't know if loneliness is something anyone should get used to." He glanced at the television. "I mean, I know we all need varying degrees of companionship, some less than others, but no one should have to get used to that void you get when there's just not enough."

Lex had nothing constructive to say to that. The entire conversation was making him uncomfortable, and he just wanted it to end.

"Clark!" Lionel's voice suddenly boomed jovially from the hall.

"Fuck off, old man," Clark snapped back. The door opened and Clark walked in, face dark. "Are you sure he's blind?" he asked after the door was closed.

"As far as I know, yes. But all my info comes through Dr. Pierce, so ..." Lex shrugged. "Want me to start throwing things at him to see if he ducks?"

"Please." He crossed the room to the couch and sat gingerly down next to Lex, keeping a good space between the two of them. "Hi, Mr. Townsend."

Mark nodded. "Hello, Clark."

Clark looked at the screen as he tucked his feet underneath him. " _Horatio Hornblower_?" he asked.

"Mark hasn't seen the mini series, and he said they were one of his favorite series of books when he was in high school."

"I wasn't very popular," he added with a sage nod.

A genuine-looking smile crossed Clark's face, the ones that were rare these days: amused, happy, and uncontrolled. He bestowed it on Mark with a faint blush as if to say they were in the same boat before turning to Lex. "What about you?"

Lex grinned, shark-like and said, "You know I always enjoy a story with some good seamen in it."

As expected, Clark's face went completely, night beacon red and he all but shrieked, "Lex, that's my _teacher_ over there!"

"He's right, Lex," the voice of reason said. "I don't mind saying things like that with you, but he's my student. The situation is ... strange, at best."

"Fine. I'll behave." He looked back up at Clark. "We watched _Empire Strikes Back_ and then were about to watch _The Phantom Menace_ when he found these."

"And anything is better than _The Phantom Menace_ ," Mark said.

Lex shook his head. "It's not that bad."

"Jar-Jar Binks."

"Darth Maul."

"'I'll try spinning. That's a good trick,'" Mark quoted.

Lex's lips quirked. "Ewan McGregor."

There was a moment of respectful silence.

"But you get more of him in _Moulin Rouge_ ," Mark said after a moment.

"Yes, but if you watch that, you have to listen to Lex sing. Or, rather, _I_ do," Clark corrected. "Not that I mind so much." He threw a lopsided smile at Lex.

"Can he sing?"

Clark put his arm around Lex's shoulders and nodded. "Yes, he can."

Mark smiled. "Then you're lucky. One time, I had a boyfriend who insisted on singing _all_ the time: in the shower, at breakfast, in the car, on dates ... basically, whenever he was breathing. And he was tone deaf. It was the most painful six months I'd ever had."

Next to him, Clark went utterly and completely still. He stopped breathing, his hand clutched too tightly into Lex's shoulder, and everything about him was just silent.

/What is it?/

"Clark?" Mark said, sounding concerned.

Clark pulled away from Lex and curled into a corner of the couch. "I didn't know you were gay," he said softly.

Lex and Mark exchanged looks.

"I'm sorry, Clark. I didn't know it would upset you. I also didn't know that you didn't realize I was gay."

"Is that why you're hanging out with my boyfriend?" Clark asked.

"No. No, not at all. I just thought that he and I had a few things in common, and, so far, I'm enjoying his company. As a friend."

Lex knew Clark's next question before he asked it. For half a second, he thought about stopping him, but he knew that Clark _had_ to do it to gain the security. Besides, Lex needed to hear it too.

"And your interest in me," Clark said, his voice even lower than before. "Is it really about my writing?"

"What else .... Oh." Comprehension dawned and he flushed. "Um, no, Clark. I mean, yes. My interest in you is exactly what I said it was. You're a talented writer, and a very gifted student. Plus you're bright, sensitive, and an extraordinary person. I like you a great deal, Clark, but not as anything more than .... It's platonic, Clark."

Clark swallowed and pressed his forehead against his knees.

Mark looked at Lex, concerned.

"Clark?" Lex said softly. He moved closer and rubbed his back.

"I'm okay." He lifted his head, exhaling slowly. "Sorry."

"It's all right, Clark." Mark hesitated. "Does it bother you that I'm gay?"

"No. No, it doesn't, it's just .... I didn't know, and you single me out a lot. Last time a teacher did that, she tried to seduce me." He blushed and bit his lip.

"Who?"

"Desiree Atkins," Lex said with a sigh. "My ex-wife."

Mark obviously had questions, but something in Lex's face must have discouraged him from asking. The truth was, he didn't know what he'd say; it was one thing to clue the authorities into the fact that Desiree wasn't exactly normal--they already had some experience with it--but introducing someone to it took time and evidence that Lex didn't have at the moment.

Luckily, Mark didn't pursue it. Instead, he turned back to Clark and said, " If I've ever done anything to make you uncomfortable, I apologize."

"It's okay." He sighed. "You haven't. Not really. Just gushed a little, which I don't get. A part of me has been wondering why."

"You're a talented writer. That's why I'm enthusiastic."

Lex winced as his heart twisted hard. God, Clark had changed. A year ago, he would have accepted Mark's enthusiasm for his writing at face value and never questioned for any hidden agenda. Dad and Desiree had changed that neatly, and Clark had lost not only his trust in other people, but obviously whatever faith he'd had in his own worth. If only Lex had been able to protect Clark. If only he'd been stronger. If only ...

/Stop it/ Clark said harshly.

Lex's ears caught fire and he looked away from Clark.

"Are you interested in Whitney?" Clark asked suddenly.

Huh. Now _that_ hadn't occurred to him. Lex looked at Mark to see his reaction.

He looked terrifically embarrassed. Cheeks deep red, he glanced at the television screen and said softly, "Oh, look. Seamen." Then he rubbed his eyes again. "I can't even remember what the guy looks like, Clark. I've only had two letters from him."

Lex watched as Clark produced a stack of pictures from his back pocket. He handed them across to Mark. "Here. Lana gave me these."

An intense flare of jealousy went through Lex, but he forced it down. It was a crush. The guy was overseas. He was nowhere near the threat Aaron was, or the fucking orderly from the hospital, or even the queerling trying to get his heterosexual kicks out with Chloe. They were here, present, and, as far as Lex knew, single. Whitney wasn't. Well, he wasn't here, at any rate.

But, then again, none of the others had rescued Clark from the clutches of Lionel Luthor. They hadn't been there when Clark had been taken away by social services. They hadn't told Clark they loved him before going heroically off to war.

Clark didn't have a major, if partially unacknowledged, crush on any of them.

Whitney was the enemy, not the others. Whitney Fordman.

"He's gorgeous," Mark finally said, and Lex suddenly felt a ray of hope sear through him. If _Mark_ took Whitney away ...

Of course, Mark was here taking care of his father, and probably wouldn't leave until he died. And then there was the fact that Whitney was already away, but ... if Whitney were involved with another man .... If Whitney wasn't unattached and in love with Clark, then maybe Clark's crush could die a painless death. Maybe ...

Mark handed the pictures back to Clark. "Really, he's very handsome. But, until I meet him, I can't really say more."

"But you're attracted to him." It most definitely wasn't a question.

Mark's cheeks colored slightly and he admitted, "Yes, I guess am. But just a little."

Clark seemed to think about it a moment, and then nodded. "Okay."

"Okay, then." He smiled at Clark. "So, we're okay?"

"We're okay." After hesitating a moment, Clark held his hand out.

Mark took it and shook it. "Well, I think I'm going to call it a night," he said after a moment, keeping hold of Clark's hand. He squeezed it, and then rose, releasing him.

Lex stood as well. "We'll have to finish the movie another time, then."

"I'd like that," he said with a smile. "Have a good weekend in Metropolis, and I'll see you, Clark, on Monday."

"Okay. Thanks."

"I'll walk you out," Lex said, touching Mark's back gently.

They walked quietly through the house to the front door. Vaguely, Lex wondered where his father was, but then decided he didn't care. He could only protect his ... friends so much, and he really didn't want to introduce Mark to Lionel. Not until he was more sure about Mark, that was.

"I had a good time," Mark said when they reached to door.

"Sure. I'll bet I was loads of fun."

Mark shook his head and smiled. "I had a good time, Lex. Really."

The return smile came naturally to his lips and Lex realized that he, too, had had an enjoyable night. The day sucked, but the night had been exactly what he'd needed. "I did too."

"Good. Well, then, good-night."

"Night." Lex waited until Mark had disappeared into the darkness, and then closed the door. When he returned to the entertainment room, Clark was stretched across the couch, watching the movie.

Lex laid on top of him. "You okay?" he asked, kissing the tip of Clark's nose.

"I'm good."

"How was the packing party?"

Clark considered the question carefully before he answered, his eyes very serious. He chewed on his bottom lip as he thought, as if the question were of great importance. And then, he nodded, released his lip and said, "Fun. I had fun." Then he smiled and it was like the sun coming out. "What about you?"

He thought a moment and then nodded. "Yeah. I had a fun, too."

"So, Chloe was right?"

"What do you mean?"

"Every day, when we leave the house, Chloe tells me that today is going to be a good day. And then, at the end, when she gets me home, she asks me how it was. So far, they've only been okay, at best. But I think today was good. At least for me."

Lex sighed, thinking about his breakdown that morning, and how he'd felt all day, and nodded. "Yeah, I guess it was."

Clark smoothed his hand over Lex's scalp. "Mom told me you had a rough day today. I, uh, I felt you crying."

"Just because it was a good day doesn't mean it was an easy day." He took Clark's hand and held it against his cheek. "Do you ever get angry at him?"

"Sometimes. I don't want to or mean to, and I'm always so angry at myself when I am, but, yeah. Sometimes."

Lex nodded and closed his eyes. "I think I loved him," he whispered.

Clark kissed him gently. "I think you love a lot of people, you just don't admit it. I think you love Damien and Mabel and Dr. Sutton and my mom and dad and maybe even Chloe a little bit. But I know you loved Ryan." He sniffed. "I did, too."

He could feel the tears threatening again. They clogged behind his nose and gathered under his eyelashes. But he couldn't do it; not now. So, instead, he sat up and blinked rapidly, trying to banish them.

"You okay?" Clark sat up as well and took both of Lex's hands in his.

"Yes," Lex whispered, voice hoarse. He studied the hands in his intently, hoping the focus would take his mind off the pain.

Clark's fingernails were blue. It was startling against the glorious tan skin and worn, every day flannel, but there they were. Jonathan Kent's boy with dark blue, slightly sparkly, nail polish adorning each fingernail.

Effectively distracted, Lex began to trace each and every finger, starting at the knuckle. The polish was shiny smooth and felt interesting underneath his skin. He'd of course felt nail polish before, but it still somehow felt different. It was Clark, and also a novelty.

"It was in Chloe's backpack," Clark said, shoulders hunching. "We ... well, I was taking a break, and I, I don't know. I just did it. Okay?"

"Okay." Lex kept his tone easy and relaxed, trying to deflect Clark's defensive one. "I think I like it."

He blinked and narrowed his eyes. "You do?"

To prove his point, Lex kissed Clark's fingernail gently. "Yes, I think I do. My only concern is that we're going to the opera tomorrow. They clash with your tux."

Clark seemed to deflate. "I can take it off."

He hesitated, stroking the back of Clark's hand. The truth was, he didn't want to discourage anything Clark might do right now, except leave him for another guy. Or girl, for that matter. Painting his nails was such a little thing, and if it made Clark feel better, then Lex wanted to make Clark feel as if he were free to do it. But, on the other hand, they might run into journalists at the opera or at dinner, and if Clark had blue nails, it'd be easier to peg him as Lex's underage date rather than young companion.

Lex sighed and kissed the nails again. "Why don't you wear them all day tomorrow, then we'll take them off for the opera, and then I'll repaint them when we get home?"

"Really?" Clark seemed to like the idea.

"Really."

"Cool. Thanks!" Clark kissed him.

"I'm not giving you permission. If you want to paint your entire body blue, then that's your choice. I'll support any choice you make, Clark, but I will never, ever give you permission to do something. Unless, of course, you want to do something to me."

He laughed and kissed Lex again. This time, the kiss lingered. "I know, Lex." Clark pushed Lex onto his back. "What about you? Can we do your nails, too?"

"We'll see." He yawned suddenly, the yawn taking him by surprise.

"Tired?"

"Yes." Lex was amazed. He was tired again. Sleepy, even.

Clark smiled and bit him on the neck. "Good. Let's go to bed. And then, tomorrow, we're off on our anniversary weekend."

Lex yawned. "I can't wait," he said drowsily.

"Me neither."

Lex kissed his neck. "Staying over?"

"Yeah."

"Let's go to bed." Lex pushed Clark off him and rose. After another lingering kiss, they went, hand in hand, to bed.

* * *

It was easy to control one's panic on the other side of the world. Or, rather, the other side of the ocean, to be more accurate. Over there, in England, it'd been easy to hang up on Lex and go about the work he'd needed to do. Go to meetings, talk to subordinates, sign documents, and look over financial records. Then, when the day was over, Dominic had calmly documented his personal leave time, ordered the Luthor Corp jet to ready itself for the transatlantic flight, packed, and left England.

It wasn't until they'd set down in New York that the first stirrings had began. They'd stayed steady and low until they'd reached Metropolis. That's when his calm and easy nervousness had developed into a full blown panic attack.

Luckily, Dominic already knew what floor and room Damien was on, so he was able to skip the arduous process of trying to find him. Also lucky that he arrived just after visiting hours began, which meant he could skip the painful task of gaining admission. It all depended who was on staff, of course, but occasionally, Dominic ran into trouble when trying to see Damien in the hospital. Not only was he not family, but he couldn't even claim the luxury of domestic partnership, much less marriage. And that was fine in their personal lives, but hell when Damien was in the hospital.

Not that Kansas recognized domestic partnership between men. Not that Dominic had a legal right to be there in any case.

Dominic found the room and stopped just outside. Taking a deep breath, he ran his hands over his hair and then smoothed out the wrinkles in his clothing. He knew Damien probably wouldn't care what he looked like, but it was easier to fuss than to go directly in and see the damage.

He cleared his throat, swallowed, took a deep breath, and then entered Damien's room.

Damien was asleep and looked pale and uncomfortable. His hair hung lank over his forehead, there were lines around his eyes, and he was wearing one of the horrible hospital gowns. His leg was in traction, propped straight out; his other ankle looked as if, too, were in a cast.

Dominic closed his eyes a moment to compose himself. Then he pulled a chair across the room to sit next to his love.

The noise must have woken Damien, because he stirred.

"Damien?" Dominic said softly, placing his hand on his forehead.

"Dom?" He cleared his throat, which prompted Dominic to get him some water. By the time he returned, Damien's eyes were opened. "I thought you were in England."

"I was. I decided this constituted enough of an emergency to warrant my return, however brief." And then, because he couldn't help it, he bent down and kissed Damien hungrily.

Damien's kiss was no less hungry. His hands, encumbered as they were with IV and heart monitors, grasped Dominic's head in a tight grip. His lips were hard and demanding, tongue probing as it delved into Dominic's mouth, warring with Dominic's own.

Dominic whimpered softly in his throat and sank down to the bed. It was uncomfortable and awkward, but he didn't care. It was rare that Damien allowed him to be so demonstrative in a relatively public place. And he'd been so panicked since he'd heard the news. He needed this, needed to feel that Damien wasn't as fragile as he appeared, was still strong and solid. He needed to feel and taste Damien's flesh, to press against his body, to feel his blood sing through his veins.

"I hope you're not angry," he said breathlessly after a moment, lips brushing over Damien's forehead.

Damien laughed in a sharp inhale, his teeth latching onto the skin exposed just above Dominic's neck. "I should be. Had I any sense. But, apparently, it's been stolen from me." He took sucked on Dominic's earlobe. "I am glad to see you."

"I only wish the circumstances were happier." He took Damien's lips again in a long kiss before reluctantly breaking way. "What happened?"

His pale cheeks colored ever so slightly and he looked away. "I wasn't paying enough attention when I got off the elevator. The brakes gave just as the wheel caught on something and I fell down the stairs and was trapped." A muscle in his jaw spasmed. "I'm only lucky that Clark and Lex happened to be nearby. It would have been ... humiliating should I have been forced to stay that way until someone found me." He swallowed "That chair is extraordinarily heavy."

"I know," Dominic said softly, smoothing Damien's hair back.

"Do you know how much weight it takes to break the thigh bone?"

"Yes."

Damien swallowed. "I felt it snap. Like someone stepping on a twig." He laughed breathlessly.

Dominic kissed him silent.

"I was in surgery yesterday," he said quietly when they broke apart. "They needed to get a better look at my hip, to see if it needed replaced."

"Did it?"

"No. The shaft was broken cleanly across, just below the joint. The, ah, muscles were torn, though. I ..." The muscle in his jaw spasmed and he squeezed his eyes shut. "I'd just started walking more than three steps at a time in therapy, and now I can't feel my damn leg."

He swallowed. "Why not?"

"I don't know. It's been like this for months. Most days, I'm fine and I can feel every pinprick in my legs, and then others, there's nothing. At least not in my feet and calves."

"Your doctor knows?"

Damien nodded. "Yes. And they know about this, too. Originally they believed there was nerve damage, but then it looked as if there wasn't. Now they're thinking that whatever was damaged in the original accident was worsened by this. I might ..." He swallowed hard and lowered his head a moment. When he looked back up, his eyes were hard and emotionless. "I need you to do something for me."

"What?" Dominic asked warily, afraid Damien was going to request something impossible of him.

"I'd like a new wheelchair, and I'd like you to order it for me. A smaller one. Lighter, and without a motor."

"Damien ..."

"My arms are healed enough to use one, now. Actually, they probably have been for quite awhile, I simply .... Dominic, I may not ever be out of the wheelchair," he said suddenly, and in a rush. He swallowed and released Dominic's hands.

Dominic forced himself to stay still while Damien took a few deep breaths.

He laughed bitterly and shook his head. "I always assumed I would eventually recover full use of my legs. I'd resigned myself to using a cane, but that was fine. I .... But, Christ, it's been months, and now this. I know it's too early to know anything for sure, but I think we must prepare ourselves for the possibility that this is permanent."

Dominic sighed softly and took Damien's hands again. Squeezing them gently, he said, "I've always been prepared, love."

The look on Damien's face was indescribable. He was confused and upset and dismayed and frustrated and thankful all at once. It was quite a lot for a man who normally was so emotionless. "Then why do you stay?" he asked after a long moment.

"That's what love is. I thought you knew."

Damien sat up and kissed Dominic. It was a simple kiss, short as they went, yet full of meaning and emotion. It was, perhaps, the first time he'd revealed so much of himself by doing so little.

Dominic's heart twisted.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"Of course." Dominic kissed him back, keeping hold of both of Damien's hands as he laid back down.

Damien managed a bit of a smile before composing himself. "I would like you to find me a chair, if possible," he said in a brisk, business-like tone. "I want it to be you, not Aimee or Mabel. Lex can't, he's going through too much right now, so it should be you. If you don't have the time, however, I understand."

"I'll make time."

Damien nodded, relief flashing over his face. "Thank you. I would also like it if you could call Anne. I'll be needing a nurse again, at least for awhile, and am hoping she'll make the move. If not, ask her to recommend someone discreet."

"All right." Dominic pulled out his palm pilot and made the notes.

"See what you can do to arrange home care for me. The bed, whatever monitors I need, a new room in the mansion, etcetera. Run anything you have questions on by me. I want to get out of here as soon as possible."

"That bad?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yesterday, as I was recovering from my surgery, the local pre-school came in and tortured me with songs." His jaw clenched. "I despise children."

Dominic's fingers went numb at the words, causing him to drop the wand to his Palm Pilot "Wonderful reaction, Dom," he chastised himself silently, trying to regain control.

"Long flight," he said in explanation, but he couldn't help the shiver of foreboding that went through him. Almost as if he'd decided .... But he hadn't. Nothing. It wasn't his decision, and ...

"Dom?"

"Sorry. As I said, long flight. I've hardly gotten any sleep." He picked up the wand. "I didn't realize that you disliked children so."

Damien frowned. "Perhaps despise is too strong a word, but I don't like them. Especially young ones. Once they reach Clark's age, they are tolerable, but before that, I find them annoying."

"So you don't want any of your own, then?"

"The closest I think I will ever come is if Lex has children, and then I will simply need to adjust. But, no, I don't imagine any circumstances in which I will ever have any. I won't marry, and unless you somehow conceive, I don't see how I would."

The words warmed Dominic and he smiled. He set aside his palm pilot and took Damien's hand again. "I hope that isn't just the drugs talking."

"Dominic, how many different assurances must I give you as to our relationship?" he asked, sounding a little annoyed. "No, nothing is every for certain, but as of now, I don't foresee me leaving you to find someone else. You are a good partner for me, and that is all I have ever asked."

He smiled again and leaned close. "I love you, too," he whispered. They kissed again, when the door opened.

"Hi," a familiar female voice said from behind Dominic. "You must be Dominic."

A prickle of foreboding ran through him. Uncertain what he would find, Dominic turned to face the woman standing in the door.

Helen went white at the sight of him, her eyes wide. "Oh my God. Dominic."

"Hello, Helen," he said softly, heart thundering. He rose and straightened his rumpled shirt before crossing the room. "It's nice to see you." Which it wasn't, but it wouldn't do to let her know. Helen could be a vindictive bitch when she wanted, and if she was Damien's doctor, it was best to keep on her good side.

He took her hands--which were ice cold--and kissed her cheek gently. She still smelled of roses and herbal conditioner underneath the antiseptic and hospital overlying everything. "You look wonderful." Which, of course, she did. The one thing Helen excelled at was looking top notch no matter what the occasion.

"Thanks, so do you." She sounded forced, and her smile wasn't exactly sincere, but Helen looked into his eyes almost warmly. Keeping her hands firmly in his, she said, "I kept hearing that Dominic might be coming, and Dominic needed to be let into see Mr. Walters, but it never occurred to me that I hadn't heard a last name. And it certainly never occurred to me ..." She trailed off and looked at Damien, who was looking at them through amused eyes.

Dominic looked from her to Damien and back again. It struck him that he'd never told Helen ... But, then again, why would he have? He'd been denying everything so hard when they'd been together, he would have hidden this as well.

He felt his cheeks warm and he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Ah. Um, well, yes." His smile felt thin. "Surprise."

"Are you gay?" she demanded. "Have you always been gay? Were you sleeping with men when we were together?"

"No," he said quickly. "No, darling, I wasn't." Then he winced, realizing what he'd just done. Fuck.

Helen didn't give any appearance that she'd noticed his gaffe, but, then, she so rarely noticed anything outside of her immediate concern when it came to him. Squeezing his hands as if to stress that what she was asking was _really_ important and he _needed_ to give her his undivided attention, she asked, "But did you know you were attracted to men?"

Dominic pulled away and crossed his arms over his chest. He forced himself to step away from her, feeling ashamed somehow. "Um, yes. I ... I suppose I always have been ... gay, but when I was dating you, I thought ...." He broke off and rubbed his eyes. "I was committed to you, Helen. I swear. I thought my feelings for men would disappear, or wouldn't matter. I wasn't using you, I swear."

"But you left me because of this." Her cheeks were red and her eyes were very bright. She'd crossed her arms over her chest as well and was giving Dominic that _look_ that made him feel as if he were the lowest bastard on earth.

"I left you because I wasn't ready for what you wanted. I had thought I was, thought I was ready for marriage, but I wasn't. Before I met you, I'd been through a very painful breakup, and I moved too quickly with you. I'm sorry."

Helen looked at him for a long moment, her eyes glittering diamonds. Dominic did his best not to flinch or fold, knowing that he hadn't done much wrong by her, and that he was guiltless now. But, at the same time, it was so hard not to fall to his knees and apologize. Damn her.

At long last, her face softened and molded itself into a slightly more pleasant expression. "Well, it's in the past. I've missed you, but I've gone on with my life. As have you." Helen glanced at Damien, her smile dimming just a hint before turning back to Dominic. "So, ah, what do you do?"

"I'm still with Luthor Corp, only now I'm Lionel Luthor's personal assistant with an opportunity to become the vice president of the corporation within the year."

Helen's eyes flashed and she took a step towards Dominic. Then it seemed as if the memory of exactly _why_ he was in the room came back to her and her cheeks flushed red. She glanced at Damien. "And you work for Lex Luthor."

Damien nodded. "Yes."

"Cozy. Looks like a real loving family company."

"Companies," Damien corrected. "Lex Corp is a corporation in its own right."

"My mistake." She turned back to Dominic. "So, ah, how long will you be in town?"

Dominic glanced back at Damien. "Only for the weekend, I think."

Damien nodded.

"Yes," he said, turning back. "Business calls me to London. I only came for Damien."

"How sweet," she said, and she just managed to sound sincere. Stepping around Dominic, she went to the bed and pulled Damien's chart. "How are you doing this morning?"

"I'm all right. A little nauseated, however."

Dominic shot him a look, but apparently Damien was serious

Helen nodded. "I'll send the nurse in to check your vitals, and we'll see if we can get you some anti-nausea medication. How's the pain?"

"Hovering around six and seven."

"Give yourself the medicine anytime it gets above a four. The goal is to keep you in as little pain as possible so you can recover more quickly."

"I get queasy when I press the button," he explained, showing her the wand that dispensed the medicine when pushed.

Helen frowned and went to the IV stand. Studying the pain medicine, she said, "We'll try switching to another dosage and see how that goes." She made a note on his chart.

"Thank you."

"Of course." She smiled brightly. "Well, I need to make my rounds, but I'll be back in a few hours to see how you're doing." Helen turned back to Dominic. "I'd like to see you again before you leave town."

"Well, ah, I don't know how much time I'll have. But," he hesitated a moment before saying, "I'd like that, too."

Helen smiled. "I'll try and catch you before one of us leaves today." She crossed the room to him, took his hand, and kissed him on the corner of his mouth. "I'll see you later." Then she left.

Feeling sheepish, Dominic turned back to the bed. Damien was gazing at him, amusement evident on his face.

"So," Dominic said to break the silence. "Your doctor is Helen Bryce."

"She is indeed. I take it you know her?"

He scowled. "Yes. And, yes, I dated her while I was getting over Lex."

"Funny, I thought that was what you were doing with me."

"Damien," Dominic sighed. He sat on the bed and rubbed his eyes. "Very well, I dated her when I first broke up with Lex, hoping she would help me get over him. I ... I wanted to prove to Harry I was worth something. Worth the same ... luxury as he'd been privy too. A beautiful wife, children, a successful career. I wanted it all, and Lex got me off track. Or, at least, that's the way I felt at the time. I knew I was gay, but didn't see why that should matter."

Damien nodded and took his hands. "And does all that matter to you now?"

He made himself wait before answering, even though it been a long time since he'd have any doubt in his mind. Then he shook his head. "No. You're it."

"Good."

Dominic ran his fingers through Damien's hair. "So, I'm returning to England after this weekend."

Damien nodded.

"And that's what you want?"

"No, that is not what I want," he said sharply. "But that's the way it is. As much as I might want you to give up your life to take care of me right now, you can't. That's all there is to it."

But it wasn't, Dominic knew as he kissed Damien again. At least not to him. Because, at the end of the day, Damien wanted Dominic with him, and _that_ was the only fact that mattered to Dominic.

* * *

The Grand Hotel in Metropolis was the most expensive hotel in the city. It was also the most exclusive. Politicians, businessmen, heads of state, rulers, they could gain admission. Movie stars, actors, celebrities still in the flush of their fifteen minutes could not. It was the one place outside of his own penthouse that Lex felt safe and sheltered from the world, and that was what Lex needed this weekend.

He hadn't wanted to go to the penthouse with Clark this weekend. Part of it was, of course, the last time it'd been used was when Clark had rescued Ryan, and neither one needed those memories. The other part was the fact this was a special occasion, and special occasions deserved special settings. So, after a few days of debating, Lex had called the Grand and booked the penthouse suite for the weekend.

Clark looked distinctly out of place in the lobby, but he was making a valiant effort. His hands were in his pockets, eyelashes lowered, chin tucked down so he looked as if he were gazing at the immaculate marble floor. But Lex could see the blue of his eyes underneath the fringe of lashes taking everything in. His color was heightened, his breathing was faster, and he had a stiffness to his body that let Lex know he was uncomfortable.

"Hey," Lex said, touching him gently on the back. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Is this okay? Because we can go to the penthouse if ..."

"No," Clark said quickly. "No, this is fine." His hands came out of his pockets and he relaxed slightly. "It's just ... wow."

He smiled. "I know. Let's go."

They crossed the lobby, following the bellboy, Jake. The journey to the top floor was swift, and then the elevator doors opened into the foyer of the penthouse, causing both of Clark's eyebrows to reach his hairline. He stepped out into the room, following the bellboy, seeming not to notice that Lex was stuck in the elevator, heart pounding.

It was strange being back here, stranger than he'd thought it'd be. It'd been two years now since he had last set foot inside this room, and yet the uncomfortable memories had come back. But it was more than that, more than remembering the state he'd been in the last time he'd stayed here. It was the fact that this hotel, this very penthouse had played such a significant role in his final transformation from who'd he'd been as Lex Luthor, Metropolis' infamous son, to the confused, lost, struggling person Clark had saved.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to leave the elevator. Jake had set their bags away in the rooms and pulled out a bottle of champagne to chill in the ice bucket. Now he was standing expectantly, waiting for Lex to move and tip him so he could go.

"Thank you, Jake," Lex said softly.

"Anything else, sir?"

"No, that's all." Lex slipped him his tip and then stepped aside to allow Jake to leave.

"Can I take off my shoes?" Clark asked, his head in a closet.

Lex's lips quirked and he nodded. "No, Clark, you must keep them on the entire time we're here."

The shoes came off as Clark stuck his tongue out at Lex. The socks followed, and Clark slowly walked around the perimeter of the room, concentration turned inward.

Lex watched and crossed the center of the room next to the couch. Clark looked as if he were thinking, but Lex had a feeling he was allowing the hidden hedonist come out to play. The carpets were velvet or something, and really did feel quite lovely.

A box of chocolates had been placed on the coffee table. Lex opened it, pulled one out and ate it while he watched Clark. The best thing about Clark, of course, was that he didn't care about the chocolate or champagne or velvet carpets and luxury, and that's what made it so fun to surround him with it.

Clark passed by Lex, who put his hand on Clark's chest. He stopped and frowned slightly. When Lex brought a piece of chocolate to his mouth, his opened and accepted the chocolate as well as Lex's fingers.

"Oh," Lex breathed, body tightening.

Clark's tongue wound its way around Lex's fingers slowly and sinuously. The chocolate dissolved in a sticky mess around his fingers, leaving Clark to suck them clean in hard, steady pulls of tongue and lips.

Lex's knees went weak and he had to pull away to lean against the couch.

And then Clark, fucking, Goddamn Clark, smiled beatifically at him, kissed him on the lips gently, and then walked away to continue his exploration.

"Hey!" Clark called from the bedroom, "My clothes are in here! I mean, my Metropolis clothes. Are in the closet."

"I know." Lex said, still breathless. "I had them brought over from the penthouse."

Clark came back out, holding his black cashmere sweater to his cheek. "Didn't they think it was weird that you have a place in town, but you came here?"

"If they did, they didn't say anything. It's none of their business." He reached up and wiped a speck of chocolate off Clark's face. "They don't ask questions here, Clark. Not about things that don't concern them. They value discretion above all things."

"Oh. Well, that's good, then. I guess." He kissed Lex's cheek and, after dropping the sweater on the couch, went out onto the balcony. "This is cool!"

Lex followed him. The balcony was pretty cool. It was more of an atrium, with trees and plants and flowers covering the entire things. It blocked out the surrounding view of buildings and lent a sense of isolation and peace. There was a fountain in the corner that, combined with the height of the building, also masked the noise of traffic below. It was truly a retreat from the world, and one Lex had missed since leaving.

"Maybe I should do something like this back home," he said, wrapping his arms around Clark's waist. He rested his chin on Clark's shoulder. "Peaceful, huh?"

Clark's head was tilted back, and he seemed to soak up the sunlight that fell in gentle streams through the foliage. "It's wonderful. And you have a place to do this; at home, you have a garden."

Lex sighed. "Well, yes. But it's not the same, somehow. We never sit in it, for starters."

"Then we need to change that." He tugged Lex over to the table that was set up in the center and sat down. Pulling Lex into his lap, he said, "Every afternoon, we should sit there. We could have coffee or something. I'd do homework, you'd do your paperwork. It'd be nice."

"Yes, it would." Lex kissed him. "But, you're forgetting that we're usually too busy in the afternoon to get together."

"Then we should change that. Or do it at least once a week. And have breakfast there when I spend the night." He kissed Lex's neck. And then, as Lex half expected him to, Clark added, "Ryan liked being outdoors."

Lex bit back a sigh. "Yes, he did."

There was no answer, but the mood seemed to dampen.

"Babe?" Lex turned around and straddled Clark's legs. "Talk to me, okay?"

"You're angry at me."

"Not at all." Lex kissed his upper lip. "R-Ryan liked the outdoors. I'm not surprised. When he was a kid, his mother used to take him to play in the park every day. When he started school, they'd go afterwards and read before heading home to do his homework. Ryan said that his mother always told him fresh air made his brain grow." He kissed Clark's cheek. "If you want to spend more time outside, I think that's fine. And, once the weather warms up, I'd be happy to have breakfast with you in the garden."

Clark's arms wound around Lex's waist and he held him tightly. "You have that ... that greenhouse thing on the east wing, right?"

Lex nodded. "But nothing's there."

"Could something be there?"

"Of course." Lex kissed his neck and pulled back. "I'll look into it on Monday, all right?"

"You don't think I'm being stupid?"

"Not at all." Lex kissed him again, then slid off his lap. "Can we go inside? I'm freezing."

Clark allowed himself to be pulled into his feet and back into the penthouse. He closed the door to the balcony for Lex, and then went to the couch. "Are we really going to sleep in separate rooms?" he asked, curling up.

Lex snorted and went to the bucket of ice. "Yeah, right." Then he thought a moment before saying "We do have to make it look used, though. They don't ask questions, Clark, but that doesn't mean we can afford to be noticed. I'm a friend of your family's, and I brought you here for some culture. If anyone suggests differently, they'll be dealt with." He poured the champagne and went to the couch. "There are moments, Clark, where all I want is to take an ad out in the Daily Planet and let the world know how much I love you."

"But you can't."

"Not yet." Lex smiled and bent down to kiss him.

Clark kissed him back while he took the champagne glass from Lex. Then he pulled Lex next to him on the cough. "So," he said, kissing the tips of Lex's fingers, "does this mean I have to go into that other room tomorrow morning and mess up the bed?"

"Not alone," was the throaty reply. They kissed again, and then Lex sat back and sipped his champagne.

Clark followed suit, and it was always fun to watch Clark discover a new variety of alcohol. His reaction was always the same: he'd sip, make a face that included wrinkling his nose and squinting his eyes, then take another sip, make the face again, only this time less exaggerated, dip his fingers in and suck it off, think _really_ hard for a moment, then shrug, drink, and look at Lex for approval.

"Well?" Lex said, holding back his laughter.

Clark kicked him. "It's okay."

Lex rose to his knees and fell on Clark. Pressing their lips together, he said, "Unlike wine, this drink you need to get used to." He made himself comfortable on Clark's body. "Everyone drinks champagne, and they manage to do it without making that face."

"Oh yeah?" His arm snaked around Lex's body, fingers digging into his side.

"Clark!" Lex yelped when Clark hit a ticklish spot. He twisted, but Clark held fast.

He pulled Lex up closer and kissed his nose. "Open your mouth."

"What?"

"Just do it."

Warily, Lex obeyed. Clark's fingers were still threateningly poised at the sensitive spot on Lex's stomach, but they were still. Mostly.

But Clark didn't tickle him. Instead, he poured some champagne in Lex's mouth and set his glass aside. Then, after taking Lex's as well, Clark lowered his mouth and kissed Lex.

Lex stifled as gasp as Clark's hot tongue lapped at the champagne in his mouth. It brushed over his own tongue, his lips and the inside of his cheeks as Clark made sure he got every last drop. His hands moved so they framed Lex's face, keeping him trapped and at Clark's mercy as his tongue probed and tasted, igniting bursts of static heat in his mouth that melted into his veins and through his body.

Clark broke the kiss. His eyes were closed and he licked his lips thoughtfully.

"Well," he said after a moment. "Something tastes good."

Lex climbed further on top of Clark and pushed him down. Hungrily, he covered Clark's mouth with his, his arms wrapping around Clark's neck. Already, he was breathless, needy, his heart racing and blood singing through his veins. He needed this more than he'd wanted to admit. Needed to feel Clark's body against his, to have Clark _inside_ him and remind him that he wasn't the one who'd died.

His mouth was somewhere underneath Clark's jaw. Clark's fingers were underneath his shirt, just petting his skin in light, short strokes that made his skin come alive. He was so sensitive, he swore he could feel Clark's fingerprints as they pressed into his skin.

Blood rushed away from his head to his cock, making him lightheaded. He pressed himself hard into Clark's body and tugged at his shirt, needing to feel skin on skin.

Clark sat up and gently pushed Lex away. First, he tugged Lex's shirt over his head as he kissed down Lex's neck. Then he pulled his own layers off, revealing the muscular, tanned chest beneath.

Lex whimpered and leaned in. Fisting Clark's hair, he licked slowly down Clark's collarbone. His eyes fell shut at the familiar taste, and he sank his teeth in a fleshy part above the bone.

Clark made a noise in his throat and fell back. He reached up and covered Lex's hands, back arched as Lex began a downward descent on his body. Lex nipped and licked every bit of Clark's chest, sucking his nipples lightly and tracing his pecs. His tongue scraped over goose bumps and dipped into Clark's navel. His teeth teased Clark's taut abdomen and traced along his waistband.

He wasn't hard. Lex felt as if he could drill for oil, and Clark wasn't hard.

Lex carefully avoided the area and went back up to Clark's navel. Delicately, he licked around it, wetting the area. Then he pulled back and blew a stream of cool air over, hoping to get some sort of reaction.

Clark sat up abruptly and pushed Lex away. "I'm sorry," he said breathlessly. "I'm sorry."

Disappointed, Lex ran his hand over his face. "No, it's okay."

"No, it's not. I'm sorry." Clark wouldn't meet his eyes. He turned his head away, eyes lowered, tears caught on the bottom lashes.

Lex took his hands. "Clark, it's _okay_ ," he repeated firmly.

"No, it's not." He pulled his hand away and wiped the tear. "God, it's our anniversary, for Christ's sake. I should want this. I should ..." He stopped talking and swallowed.

Lex wrapped his arms around Clark and held him tightly. "There are no shoulds, Clark. The only thing I want is for you to be here with me this weekend. That's it. You, me, here. Together. That's what's going to make this weekend special. It's not about sex." He pulled away and gazed at Clark. "When have I ever pushed you?"

Clark's lower lips trembled. "Did you know that I've been horny all week? Like, every guy I see, I want to jump. And now we're here, and I'm just _not in the mood_." He laughed a little hysterically.

"Clark ..."

"You want to have sex with me. In theory, I want to have sex with you, but apparently no one told my fucking cock that this is what I'm supposed to want."

"Clark ..."

"Look, I know." He put his hands on Lex's shoulders and pushed him down. "I'll just suck you off, okay? Maybe that'll be enough. Maybe that will remind my body that sex is a good thing, and it ..." He started crying in earnest.

Lex tugged Clark down to him and held tightly. "Oh, angel," he whispered.

Clark sobbed into his shoulder, body heaving. "I just w-want to f-forget, Lex. Why can't I forget?"

He was _not_ going to cry. He was not a two year old girl. Or a twelve year old girl. Or Lana. He was Lex fucking Luthor and he didn't cry.

With a trembling hand, he stroked down Clark's back. "When has forgetting ever given us anything but more grief?'

"But it hurts so m-much. Just for a little while. That's all I want." He lifted his head suddenly, eye wide. His breathing picked up and cheeks went red, as if he'd thought of something important. "Lex," he said urgently, "you still have my class ring."

The world bottomed out and Lex had to close his eyes to keep from getting sick from the vertigo. "Clark ..."

He sat up. "Lex, please. Just for this weekend. Mom and Dad wouldn't have to know."

"But _I_ would know, Clark. Jesus Christ, you want me to give you drugs."

"You give me alcohol."

"Because ... because it doesn't affect you. And I can monitor your intake and reaction. We've never had more than three drinks together, except that one time with Chloe, and even then, it was a one time thing and I knew none of us were going anywhere. This is _completely_ different."

He started crying harder. "I miss Ryan, Lex. I just want to feel better."

Lex wrapped himself around Clark and pulled him back down to the sofa. "Give it time, Clark. Please, just give it time." He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it hard to breathe. Liquid squeezed out of the corner in his eyes and his nose clogged up as he fought to keep his emotions at bay. "I know how hard it is," he said after a moment in a broken voice. "But you have to give it time."

Clark tightened his grip on Lex, and they stayed like that, wrapped in each other on the couch, grieving for their lost brother.

* * *

"Chad?" Lana repeated, looking a little amused.

Chloe felt the blush grow on her cheeks. "Yeah."

"He asked you out?"

"Yes, he did. Why? Is there some problem with that? Because, if there is, I mean if this is going to make things weird, then ..."

"No, no," Lana assured her, shaking her head. She screwed the cap on the sugar and set the dispenser aside. "It's just that I didn't think you were his type."

Chloe grinned and shrugged. "Yeah, it took me by surprise, too. Although, really, even in Metropolis, I didn't know any Goths who were actually gay. They were more queer friendly."

"How about queer-themed?" Lana corrected. Then she blushed and looked away. "I probably shouldn't have said that."

"Why not, it's true? And, my theory is, if you're in any way, shape, or form gay, you can use the word queer."

That brought a smile of relief to Lana's face and she turned back. "Thanks. And, God, that boy wears more make-up than I do." Then she frowned. "And it looks really good on him, too."

"Lana, boys look great in make-up. When we took Clark to the club, we got him to wear eye liner, and he was so hot. Lex is lucky I'm terrified of him, or I would have taken the rest of Clark's virginity that night."

Lana rolled her eyes and started pouring sugar into the next dispenser. "I'm not sure your girlfriend would have approved."

"She probably would have joined in."

Lana's cheeks went scarlet and she cleared her throat. "So, uh, what are you and Chad going to do on your big date?"

She flushed too, realizing what she'd just said to Lana. Even though the conversational lines were generally clearly drawn, when Chloe spent a lot of time with Clark and Lex, sometimes her lines got crossed. But, then again, it wasn't like a little crude talk would hurt Lana. And they _were_ moving in together. She'd have to get used to it, right?

But, the subject had clearly been changed, so Chloe went with it. "We're going to the movies, and then go to the Dairy Barn after for dessert."

"He's paying?"

"He works, he asked, he better pay."

Lana smiled. "Good." She set the sugar down and leaned on the counter. "I'm so jealous of you, Chloe. You never seem held back by anything. You like someone, you go for it. I wish I could do that."

Chloe took her hand. "You have. That's how you got me, remember?"

"Yeah, but, I haven't done it since. It's like I'm stuck or something. Dumb. Whitney pursued me, I pursued you, and now I'm just floundering. And you bounce. We break up, and you bounced back with Sydney. You two break up, and now you're bouncing again. I'm all deflated and lying limply in the street."

"You are not," Chloe snorted. "You're not me. We've known that since I moved to town. Okay, so what if you haven't dated anyone since we broke up? Half the girls at school don't date either. It's not a disease. It's life. You're still trying to figure out what the hell you want anyway, so maybe now's not the best time for you to bouncing with anyone."

Lana smiled at the ridiculousness of her metaphor. "I know, but don't you think that, eventually, I should be with someone? I mean, aren't relationships a part of finding out who you are?"

"Yeah. But there's no set schedule on when you need to do it."

She sighed and nodded. "I guess this is my way of saying I'm a little bit ... lonely. Both that you're going out with someone new, and that ... you have the opportunity to."

Chloe frowned. "Lana ..."

"No," Lana interrupted. She squeezed Chloe's hand and then released it. "I want you to ... to keep bouncing, okay? Don't worry about me. It's not going to make anything weird when I move in, I promise. Just don't stay out all night with him and then forget I'm supposed to move in tomorrow."

Chloe crossed her heart and shook her head. "I swear I won't." She cleared her throat. "So. What are your plans for tonight?"

Lana managed a sort of smile/grimace thing and put the lid back on the vat of sugar. "A long, drawn out sob-a-thon? I mean, the house is all packed, and Nell's mostly moved into her new place. God, we seriously cried the entire time we were unpacking there. Poor Dean." She shook her head. "I, uh, didn't expect it to be so hard, you know? Especially since Nell and I have been so contentious since last year. But the closer it's getting to this, the harder it is. She _raised_ me, and I feel like I might just be overreacting."

"I don't think so," Chloe said with a shrug. "I mean, if the only reason you were moving in with me was because you couldn't deal with the idea of leaving town, then, yeah, you'd be selfishly overreacting. But if Nell is really using Dean ..."

"I'm having doubts," Lana said, lifting her eyes. They were filmed with tears. "I know what she told me, but lately, when I see them together, she seems real. Happy."

Chloe thought about that a moment. She _really_ didn't want Lana to move away, and, deep down--hell, close to the surface--hoped that Nell was still pretending to love Dean for the money. But there was the possibility that Nell's feelings were real, except why lie? Why ...

"Maybe, now that she's lost you, sort of, she's realizing that what she's done isn't right. And, because of your example, she's genuinely trying to give Dean a chance."

Lana wiped her eyes and then grabbed a napkin. She used it to wipe her nose, before swiping at her eyes again. "I hope so." A few more tears fell out.

"You okay?" Chloe took her hand again.

"Yes," Lana said, crying harder. "I'm just so scared."

"Lana, my dad and me? We don't eat little girls for breakfast." Her mind automatically supplied the dirty follow up, but Chloe quickly quashed it. "And, if it doesn't work out, you can move in with Dean and Nell. They got a place with a room for you. It'll be okay."

Lana nodded. "I know. I'm just ... I'm sorry."

"I understand." Chloe lifted her hand and kissed it. Then she sat back. "What time do you get off work?"

She checked her watch and wiped her eyes. "Five minutes ago?" She smiled sheepishly and grabbed a napkin to blot the rest of the tears away.

Chloe looked at her warily. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I swear. I'm just ... you know. Going through things." Lana forced a smile on her face. "I'm fine, Chloe."

"Good. So, ah, I don't have to get ready for my date for, like, a few more hours. Do you want to hang out until then?"

Lana nodded. "Sure. Although I have a feeling your definition of hanging out is going to hospital."

"And the cemetery," Chloe added as she reached into her bag and pulled out a pile of CDs. "I promised Lex I'd check on Damien and I swore to Clark I'd check on Ryan's grave. I don't want to, but ...." She sighed and shuffled through the CDs.

"How often does he go?"

A funny question, coming from a girl who visited her parents at least once a week, but Chloe wasn't going to make any cracks about it. Instead, she said, "It was about every day the first week or so, but now I've helped talk him down to three times." At least, when he wasn't sneaking off school property, but there was nothing Chloe could do about that. "It's a victory, right?"

"Right," Lana agreed. "And he actually left town, so that's a good sign."

Not like that'd stop him from popping back for a visit, Chloe thought bitterly, but she kept it to herself. "Yeah, it is. But I still have to go, just in case. I hate breaking promises." She sighed and looked at the CD selection. "So, do you think I should put them all in, or .... Mr. Senatori!" she exclaimed as the thin, blond man emerged from the crowd.

He blinked, looking startled. "Ah ... um ... Ms. Sullivan?"

"Yeah. I need your help. We're trying to put together a basket for Mr. Walters, but beyond, like, necessities, I'm totally stumped. Do you think he'd like any of these CDs?" She pushed the selection that ranged from classical to International to modern rock at him.

Mr. Senatori's lips twitched as he looked over the many CDs. Chloe knew she'd gone overboard, but Lex's sense of guilt about leaving for the weekend had been so strong over the phone, it rubbed off on Chloe. He'd told her not to worry about money, so she wasn't ... much.

Five CDs were selected from the bunch. "He'll like these."

"Great." She passed the CDs to Lana, who pulled out the basket and placed them inside. "What about books?" Chloe pulled some books and magazines out of her bag and presented them to Mr. Senatori.

His amusement grew and he selected three books and five magazines. "These will do."

Chloe handed them to Lana as well. "Okay, we got him a Discman, slippers, Mrs. Kent got a robe, we put in muffins and stuff from here, and tea. Then we got a toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo that you don't need any water to use, deodorant, a couple shirts ...."

"Ms. Sullivan?" Mr. Senatori interrupted gently.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sure it will be fine. He will appreciate the gesture."

Chloe smiled and felt he cheeks warm. "Good. Thanks." She glanced at Lana, who was settling everything in the basket. "Have you seen him today?"

He nodded.

"How's he doing?"

"As well as can be expected," he answered tactfully. "I left him about two hours ago. I'm sure he'd be appreciative of either company or entertainment."

Chloe glanced at Lana, who nodded slightly.

"Okay, then, we're going to deliver this. Do you want us to pass on any message?"

Mr. Senatori thought a moment, then said, "Tell him I'll be returning soon. Within an hour or two."

"I will be sure to tell him. Thanks for the help." She slid off her seat and waited for Lana to come around. Then, with a final smile, she and Lana left the Talon.

"I know this sounds stupid, but I think he is so cute," Lana said. "I think it was last month they came in together, and Mr. Senatori had his hand on the back of Mr. Walters chair. He kept playing with Mr. Walters hair, and it was just so adorable."

Chloe nodded. "Yeah, he is pretty cute. But, personally, I think he's the lucky one, because Mr. Walters is totally hot."

Lana's cheeks turned red. "He's old enough to be your father, Chloe."

Chloe unlocked her car and set the basket in the backseat. "Just because I'm a shallow teenager, doesn't mean I'm too young to admire hotness, no matter what age. And I don't think he's that old. Besides, haven't you ever had a crush on an older man?"

"Uh, yeah. But he was an actor." She climbed into the car and fastened her seat belt.

"Spill. Then we can rent what ever movie he's in, and then tomorrow, after you've moved in, we can have a movie lust-a-thon."

"Oh, God," Lana groaned, her head falling back on the headrest. "I can tell already that living with you is going to be trying."

"An adventure," Chloe corrected, grinning. "Not trying. It will be an adventure. And _that's_ what going to make it so fun."

* * *

Lex woke slowly. He was a little disoriented when he raised his head, not recognizing his surroundings. He and Clark were piled on an unfamiliar bed, Lex's head resting on Clark's stomach, both bare-chested and bare feet. The comforter was silky against his bare chest, and very plush; he felt as if he could sink inside it.

He sighed, recognition dawning. Right. The Grand. Anniversary, opera, celebration, blah, blah, blah. Off to a good start, apparently.

Head throbbing, Lex sat up and rubbed his eyes. To his consternation, they were dry and scratchy, which meant he actually _had_ cried earlier. Fuck, he was turning into a water fountain. And the frustrating thing was, it wasn't just about Ryan.

He hadn't gotten so pissed off he cried in awhile. And yes, intellectually, he knew that had Ryan not died, he wouldn't have succumbed to tears. But, Ryan had died, and Lex had gotten so pissed off his lips had gone numb, and tears had fallen from his eyes.

Clark stirred, mumbling softly.

Lex's stomach seized and he wanted to hit Clark. Multiple times. Very hard.

He climbed out of bed, shaking. Shit, he could _not_ be this angry at Clark. It frightened him, the tearing, clawing, blackness inside him right now. The urge to smash and hurt and scream. It wasn't right.

Especially since he had absolutely no ground to stand on.

His toiletries bag was still in his suitcase. His hand trembled as he pulled it out, poured the contents out sloppily, and then ripped the carefully sewn seam in the bottom.

Lex still didn't know how he'd gotten the pills past Damien. Maybe Damien had been too distracted by something, or had forgotten that Lex had other avenues to medication besides him, or had become so comfortable with Lex's compliance to the rules, it hadn't occurred to him Lex might break his trust.

But break he had, and a week and a half ago, Lex had bought himself some premium, one hundred percent guaranteed to make the world go away pills from Toby.

Clutching the bottle in his fist, Lex glanced at Clark. He was still sleeping.

Lex swallowed and went into the bathroom. He didn't bother to close the door all the way behind him. As angry as he was at Clark, as hurt as he'd been by Clark's request, Clark had a right to know what Lex had done. Had thought about doing.

Even now, it was hard to do it. The lid to the toilet was up, the bottle was uncapped, the self-recrimination was running rampant through him, and Lex still hesitated.

If he took one, he could sleep ...

If he took one, the pain would fade away ...

If he took one, he might be able to laugh ....

If he took one, he wouldn't have to care anymore.

Lex tipped the bottle. The pills hit the water in a cascade. He flushed them down without a second thought.

Feeling a little more settled, he placed the bottle on the sink and went to the bathtub. He needed a bath.

The water was running into the drain, Lex's hand underneath it to test the heat when the door opened.

He tensed, skin on the back of his neck pimpling unpleasantly. He swallowed hard and fastened his eyes on the water, not turning.

"Hey," Clark said softly.

Lex didn't respond. Instead, he turned his hand underneath the warm stream and cupped the water in the palm of his hand. It did nothing to warm the chill inside him.

He heard Clark step inside. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

There was a beat of silence, and then, "Are you mad at me?"

Lex snorted and rubbed his eyes. "A little. Although obviously I have no right to be."

The bottle made a soft scraping sound against the porcelain as it was lifted. There was no label, of course, since Toby didn't exactly go through a pharmacy and it wasn't exactly a prescription. However, the name of the drug was scrawled in Sharpie across the surface, as well as the dosage. Lex liked to know exactly what he was getting into these days.

When Clark spoke, his voice was tight and unhappy. "How long have you had these?"

"About a week or so."

"Did you take any?"

He shook his head.

The bottle clicked softly as it was placed back down. "That's something." He sighed. "Okay, so, how bad is this? I mean, should we just go home, or ..."

"Order us some lunch, Clark?" Lex interrupted. He turned and sat on the floor. "I can hold off on the bath until it gets here."

Clark cocked his head. "Lunch in the tub?"

"We're being decadent. And I don't feel like staying in bed." He shrugged.

Clark frowned.

"We're fine, Clark. I'm angry, but I shouldn't be. I have no right. So, go order us lunch, we'll eat it in the tub, and we'll talk."

"Okay," Clark said after a long moment of studying Lex. He left the bathroom; a moment later, Lex heard him on the phone.

Lex sighed and rose. The water was at the perfect temperature, so he plugged up the tub and went back into the bedroom. He'd brought some sort of bubble bath for them, just in case. Pulling it out of the stuff he'd dumped, Lex took it into the bathroom and poured a capful in. Then he added another cap. Bubbles were fun.

While the tub filled, Lex returned to the bedroom and stripped. His robe was in his suitcase, but he took out Clark's blue flannel one instead. It was comfortable, and he needed comfort.

"They said it'll be ready in about fifteen minutes," Clark said, hanging up the phone. "I just got us some salads and sandwiches."

Lex nodded and knelt on the end of the bed. "Thanks." He traced the comforter. "I used to live here, you know," he said softly.

Clark shook his head. "No, I didn't know. When?"

"Right after they released me from the hospital when I had pneumonia. Dad bought me the penthouse, but it wasn't quite ready yet. So he had Damien and me move in here." Lex laughed bitterly. "He didn't even want me in his own home at that point."

"That's because he's an asshole."

Lex laughed. "A year ago you would have told me it's because he loved me but was afraid of what'd he'd do."

"And I'd probably be right. Except I think he doesn't know how to show his love because he's an asshole." He took Lex's hand. "What was it like, living here?"

"Like being a permanent guest in someone else's home." He shrugged and turned his hand over in Clark's. Tracing his lifeline, Lex said, "Housekeeping came in every day to clean and change the sheets. Usually, I'd sweated through them and they were disgusting. They dusted because my lung capacity was zero, and if there was dust, I couldn't breathe. I lived off room service, and never even saw the kitchen. Never saw nor thanked the cook." Hr licked his lips. "I've actually become grateful for people since moving to Smallville. I was always ... polite to the help because Mom really pushed the benevolent lord of the manner stuff hard. But I never thought about how these people were, you know. _People_. And that even though their job to clean up after me, but that didn't mean I should think it was owed me."

Clark was caressing Lex's fingers, probably trying to warm them. Lex felt cold.

"Don't forget, though, that you are a product of your upbringing. I'm glad you can rise above it and feel grateful now, but I understand if you didn't before. Especially when you were sick."

Lex didn't reply. He didn't say anything, just sat and allowed his guilt to wash over him.

He stroked his thumb over the back of Lex's hand. "How does it feel to be back?"

"Strange." He glanced up at the ceiling and sighed. "I was such a different person here. Worse than the self-absorbed, spoiled, rich brat you first met. I did my best to make everyone here feel inferior, even Damien." Lex squeezed Clark's hand. "And I was bored. I couldn't leave, so I turned the bathroom into my laboratory. Only, my experiments were, uh, more like making drugs."

Clark went still, but said nothing. It wasn't an unwelcoming silence, just an expectant one.

Lex looked up at him. "I didn't do most of them. I created them, mixed them. One of the bellboys used to get me stuff off the streets, and I'd break them down to see what exactly they were made of. Once I got it, I'd experiment with the chemical make-up to see what else I could do, how strong, potent, et cetera. Then I'd sell them to the help and gauge their reactions. I had spreadsheets and surveys and video tapes and observational notes." He swallowed. "Everything was fine. I was making a ton of money, and then, one batch went wrong. Three people landed in the hospital off one hit."

Clark let go of his hand momentarily. He moved closer and wrapped his legs around Lex, drawing him into a protective circle. Then, he took his hands again and held them tightly. "What happened?"

"It was really bad. Vomit everywhere, even on me. Blood ... it was really bad. Dad was so pissed, I thought he was going to kill me. Instead, he exiled me to Smallville. And Damien .... Right after that incident, Dad moved me into my penthouse. My health wasn't cleared to go anywhere else. Damien surprised me in the shower and put pressure on my neck. Choked me. Told me if I ever did anything like that again, be it taking drugs myself or selling it to others, he would kill me. He made me promise, and then, when he didn't think I meant it, he held me until I passed out. When I woke, he did it again. This time, when I promised, I meant it."

"Lex ..."

He shook his head. "Clark," he whispered. "That thing Damien and I do? Where I beg him for medication, and he withholds it? And I try to sneak it, and he threatens and I get angry that he treats me like a child, but give in?" He blinked rapidly. "It only works so long as I'm willing to go along with it."

"Yeah, I figured that out when I walked into the bathroom," Clark said.

"I, uh, don't want to die. And I don't want to be addicted or dependent on anything chemical for the rest of my life. I don't know why I got the pills. It was a moment of weakness, and I'm terrified at how easy it was. And how quickly .... How quickly I can spiral back." A lump in his throat, he lifted his head. He could feel how hard his expression was even before Clark flinched. "Don't _ever_ ask me for drugs again." Then, before he got too emotional, he rose and went into the bathroom.

The tub was filled to almost overflowing. He shut the water off and stripped before sliding underneath the bubbles and closed his eyes.

About ten minutes later, the door opened.

"Lunch," Clark said hesitantly.

Lex opened his eyes. Clark was carrying a tray.

"Join me."

Clark's lips twisted slightly, but he set the tray down gingerly across the tub. Then he stripped and climbed in on the other side. "Mom and Dad would not approve of this," he said, picking up a fork and uncovering his salad.

His lips twisted and Lex wiped his hands on a near-by towel. "Your parents don't approve of a lot of things I'm perfectly comfortable with doing. Like eating lunch in the tub. Although," he added, doubtfully poking at his salad, "normally when I eat in the tub, it's sex food."

"What? Spinach salad isn't sex food?"

"Not unless you're Olive Oyl. And I do mean the woman, not the oil."

He snorted and a smile spread over his face. "I don't know," Clark said, picking up a leaf. He licked it slowly, and then dropped it into this mouth. "I could probably get into it."

"That's because, like Popeye, you have huge bulging muscles and a strange sense of humor. However," Lex continued, lips tugging up at the corners, "unlike Popeye, you also have a huge, ah, attribute."

A delighted smile and delightful flush spread over Clark's face. It was nice to know that even after all these times, Clark could be embarrassed by a little dirty talk.

Clark shifted in the water and poked his salad with his fork. "What?" he said, eyes lit with mischief. "You think Popeye had a little, uh, dick?"

"Trust me, Clark, I'm a scientist. No one gets that top heavy muscular from just spinach. There was definitely some chemical help there. And," he added with a sorrowful sigh, "I know from personal experience what it does to men."

"Oh?"

"There is nothing worse than pursuing the captain of the rugby team only to find out his dick is the size of his pinky. And that's generous."

He laughed and shook his head. "Poor Lex. I can imagine how disappointed you were."

"Oh, believe me, my illusions were shattered. After that, I stuck to thin, brainy types." He smiled. "At least, until you. And you were a gamble."

"I see. Well, you never have to worry about me." His foot slid over Lex's thigh to rest against his cock. As he massaged it gently, he added, "I'm one hundred percent home grown."

Lex slid his hand underneath the water and rubbed Clark's foot. "I know. And you're one hundred percent perfect." He spent a moment caressing Clark's toes and running his fingers over the fine bones in his foot. Then he lifted Clark's foot. "I'm really not in the mood, though." He pushed his foot aside.

For a moment, Clark looked as if Lex had slapped him. The hurt look melted away quickly, but something lingered in his eyes that caused all the anger and frustration that had been building in Lex all day to explode.

"What?" he snapped. "You're the only one who can say no? I'm sorry, I didn't realize that. How stupid of me to forget that only _you_ are allowed to decide whether or not we fuck." He pushed the tray off the tub; it crashed to the ground, spilling the food.

"Lex ..."

He moved across the tub so quickly, water rose in a wave and smacked Clark in the face. "I'm sorry I didn't bring my collar this weekend, Master. It slipped my mind. Oh, wait, _you're_ the alien who can move faster than the speed of sound; nip back to Smallville and get it. Or, better yet, just burn a permanent one around my neck." He climbed onto Clark's lap and wiggled. "Come on, Clark. Fuck me."

For a long moment, Clark didn't speak. His arms wound around Lex, and he looked at him through sad, serious eyes that simply enflamed Lex more.

He bounced. "Come on."

Without moving, without even sighing, Clark said softly, "Stop being such a bitch, Lex."

Lex froze, caught by Clark's eyes. Clark didn't even look angry at him, just ... resigned. As if Lex were acting out of control or something.

Frustration and guilt crashed over him so hard, his muscles went weak.

"No." Clark wrapped his arms around Lex and held him tightly. "No, baby, it's all right." Lips pressed against Lex's scalp and then into his temple. "You're still angry at me. You're still grieving for Ryan. You're discomforted by being here again. I'm not upset."

"I wish you were."

Clark kissed him again. "You do remember that I'm going to love you forever, no matter what you do or say, right? And I'm not like your dad, or anyone else you know. I'm not going to punish you for doing something I don't like."

He sniffed. "Like I'm doing to you?"

"You're angry, Lex, and you're lashing out. You aren't trying to punish me." A broad hand ran up Lex's wet back, smoothing the skin in large circles.

"Why did you ask, Clark?" Lex asked, voice low. "That rock, it's not like drugs. Not exactly. You were pretty sick after."

"Drugs can make people have adverse affects after and yet, people still want them."

Lex lifted his head. "But you're such an ass."

Clark nodded, looking ashamed. "But I felt good. Strong and happy. In control." He sighed. "I really wish I could feel that way right now."

"Give it ..."

"If you tell me to give it time, I'll leave you and never come back."

He lifted his head. Clark looked serious and, the truth was, if Lex heard that phrase one more time, he was going to crack, too.

"Yeah, you're right. But that rock will only make things worse. It always does." He turned around and rested his back against Clark. Gazing at the empty bottle of pills, he said, "Besides. It'd be dishonorable."

Clark laced their fingers together underneath the water and moved so his legs were resting more comfortably on either side of Lex's body. "I never thought of it that way. I guess you're right." He sighed. "But, it still hurts. I just want to feel normal again."

"Yeah," Lex whispered, closing his eyes. "Me too."

* * *

"Thank you, Anne," Dominic said into his phone, making a note on the pad of paper in front of him. "Damien and I appreciate this."

"No problem, Dominic, I'm happy to come out. I'll be there by Monday morning, if that's all right."

"Monday is good, although I'll be gone by then. I'll tell the security guards to let you through and inform Lex that you're coming as well."

"Great!"

"Thank you," he said again, and then hung up.

That was out of the way. It had taken him awhile to track her down, but, once he had, she'd been quite enthusiastic about returning to take care of Damien. Not happy, of course, but happy to be of help. And, truthfully, Dominic would rather leave Damien in the hands of someone he knew and trusted; otherwise, he'd spend all his time in England even more worried than he would be now.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. A headache was brewing behind them, and he longed for a nap, however short it had to be. However, he was avoiding the mansion at the moment, so that was rather out of the question.

Lionel wasn't happy he was in Smallville, but Dominic had assured him that it was only for the weekend. Besides, Dominic wasn't exactly pleased with Lionel at the moment, so he wasn't upset that he'd defied his employer. It'd worked out, in any case, because Dominic was damned if he was going to let some Luthor Corp employee take care of the ruin that was his apartment.

His apartment. His home. It'd been the first place he'd ever really, truly felt comfortable. After a life in his grandparents' house, and Harry's house, and boarding school and college, _this_ had been his home. The one place that was truly his, that he'd chosen and decorated and lived in alone. He'd found it after he'd moved out of the apartment he'd shared with Helen and the moment he'd stepped inside, he'd known he'd come home.

And now it was in ruin. He hadn't even seen it, but the police report had left little to the imagination. The detective in charge of the investigation was faxing the pictures to the mansion, but his description had been enough. Every piece of furniture had been destroyed, every piece of artwork smashed, the carpet pulled up and burned, and the walls scorched.

The police would never find anything, he knew. Even if Morgan Edge had been sloppy enough to leave some form of evidence that could be traced back to him, the police would be paid off so he was never brought for justice.

Justice. An ironic concept. There was no justice in this world.

"Hello, Dominic."

He smiled wanly, not quite up to a real smile. "Dar ... Helen." Fuck, what the fuck did he keep doing that?

Helen smiled knowingly and sank down across from him. "So. It really is a small world."

"Small town." Then he shrugged. "Small world, I suppose. How on earth did you end up here?"

"Research." She took a sip from her to-go container. "A lot of strange health problems are appearing in this town. Mutations, and not a lot of research has been done about them. I thought I'd see what I could do."

"How very generous of you."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Generous, hell, I'm in it for the acclaim. Anything to separate my name from the plastic surgery dynasty my father has created. I want people to take me seriously."

Dominic inclined his head slightly. "Then, perhaps, investigating mutations isn't quite the way to go. I can only imagine the scorn and ridicule that will be heaped upon you until you've finally proven something ... if you ever are able."

"I know, but that's a chance I have to take in any case." She shrugged. "I could play is safe, but that's not what life is about. It's about taking risks, jumping in, and seeing where you land. I have a feeling I'll land on my feet."

He studied her a moment, amused. His amusement must have shown on his face, because she narrowed her eyes questioningly at him.

He smiled and said, "It's just that you remind me so much of Lex sometimes."

Annoyance settled over her features. "I remind you of a spoiled, pampered pretty boy? Gee. Thanks."

"There's more to him than that. There is, Helen," he repeated more firmly when she rolled her eyes. "He's not the same boy I tried to introduce you to all those years ago. And he's not the same boy who threw up on you in the ER. He's a man, now, one with a lot of responsibility and a lot of heart."

"I thought you hated him."

He sat back and pushed his coffee cup around in a circle. "I could never quite bring myself to hate him, no matter how much I desperately wanted to."

Helen's silence told Dominic that she understood what he was saying to her. He kept his eyes trained on the table, unwilling to see the hurt, betrayal, and anger he knew he would find written across her face.

"Well," she said after a moment, "forgive me if I don't give him a chance. Somehow, I don't think we'd be very good friends."

"On the contrary, I think the two of you would be the best of friends. Contentious, perhaps, but you both thrive on contention. And you're both scientists ..."

"He is _not_ a ..."

"He is," Dominic interrupted quietly, looking at her. "Not professionally, but that is where his heart lies. He simply allowed himself to be driven by his father into a profession that mirrored Lionel's own. But he still retains his first love, and I believe that could be a common bond between the two of you."

Helen frowned. "Are you trying to set us up?"

Dominic shook his head. "Not at all. I simply .... I don't want you to be friends with him. I don't want notes compared, or stories traded about me. I just .... I did love you, Helen. I swear. But, yes, I loved him more."

"And what about Damien?" she asked, looking away.

"Damien is ... my partner. My love. My lover. I'm more adult with him than I was with either you or Lex, and more comfortable. And I ... I feel more respected." He said the last quietly to keep the sting out of the accusation.

Her cheeks flushed. "I respected you."

He said nothing.

Helen turned back and reached into her purse. "I have something for you."

"Helen," he sighed as she pushed a small, black velvet box across the table to him. "You don't ..."

"No," she interrupted. "No, I've thought about it for a long time, and I was wrong to keep this. I was just so hurt and so angry, I wanted to hurt you back. I knew it wasn't an heirloom or anything, although I still may have .... Anyway. Take it back."

Dominic opened the box and studied the engagement ring. It was still in perfect condition and shined as if it were brand new. "I ..."

"What need do I even have of it?"

He laughed softly and looked up at her. Feeling his lips twist with irony, he asked, "What need do I?"

Helen appeared to be at a loss for words, a rare gift. He took advantage of that fact by rising and slipping the ring into his pocket. "Thank you, Helen. I appreciate the gesture. And I hope that, one day soon, you receive one from a man who truly can give you the world." He bent over and kissed her cheek lightly. Then, before she recovered her voice, he left the coffee house to return to his lover's side.

* * *

"You look uncomfortable," Lex said.

Clark shot him a look and forced his hand away from his collar. "No, not at all." He shifted and glanced out the window. "So, no one can see us, right?"

Lex smiled. "No, Clark, they can't. That's one of the benefits of being in a limo. We can see them and laugh at their poor, meaningless, limo-less lives, they can look at the limo and envy us, but they have no idea who we are."

"Of course, the license plate says LUTHOR, so it's not so hard to guess." He pulled Lex onto his lap. "Vanity will get you recognized," he whispered, nipping Lex's bottom lip.

"They'll think I'm my father, probably. I'm more known for tearing around town in a sports car." He whispered the words into Clark's mouth, hands clasped behind Clark's head. "Be careful not to wrinkle the suit."

"I want to do more than wrinkle it, Lex." As rough as the day had been, as many tears as he'd shed and as hurt as he'd been by Lex's confessions, God, was he horny now. Lex was so gorgeous in his suit--even if it was the same one that he'd married Desiree in--and he'd had that _look_ all through dinner. The one that let Clark know Lex was thinking big words and dirty thoughts in the restaurant as they ate food Clark couldn't even pronounce and spoke softly in the shadows.

If Clark had been older, if he and Lex were free to be out, he would have had dinner with Lex on his lap, feeding him each bite while he massaged places that weren't supposed to be touched in public. But Lex was Lex Luthor and he could do whatever he wanted. Especially since he owned an interest in the restaurant.

He sucked on Lex's neck as he undid the tie around his neck. "God, you taste good."

Lex moaned and pressed himself closer to Clark. "This is a bad idea, Clark. We're not that far from the opera house."

"Can't we circle it for awhile?" Clark asked breathlessly, licking the soft skin behind Lex's ear.

"Oh, God," Lex breathed, pressing his body hard into Clark's. "And, no. Dinner took longer than expected; curtain is in ten minutes."

"I can be fast."

He laughed and pulled Clark's hand away from his crotch. "Clark."

Clark made a face and pulled away. "What if I'm not in the mood later?"

Eyes smoldering, Lex leaned into him. He didn't kiss Clark so much as lightly lick over his mouth. His tongue swept a pattern over his jaw, around the shell of his ear, up to his temple. Fingers dug through the fabric of Clark's jacket, twisting his nipples before they slid down to grasp Clark hard by the hips. "Tonight, I won't let you be anything but in the mood."

"Promise?" Clark whispered in a needy moan.

Eyes open and locked on Clark's, Lex lowered his mouth to his in a hot, wet kiss. His tongue lazily drifted in and out of Clark's mouth and scraped along his upper lip with arousing intent.

The limo stopped.

"We're here, kid," Lex said, pulling away.

"No," Clark moaned, flushed and aroused.

Lex laughed and grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. "Open."

Sobbing softly, Clark obeyed. Cool water trickled into his mouth, followed by a tongue.

/You're not helping./

/Sorry./ Lex moaned into his mouth before pulling back. "Drink." He pressed the bottle into Clark's hand and climbed off him.

Clark drained the water and watched as Lex poured himself a glass of Scotch. He frowned and wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand.

Catching Clark's eye, Lex flushed guiltily. "Just for strength to put up with everyone. That's all." He drained the glass and set it aside. "Put on your game face."

"My game face?" Clark repeated, frowning.

Lex smiled. "Yeah. That one." He caressed Clark's face gently, smoothing out he frown lines, and then turned just as the door opened.

The opera house was huge, and Clark was intimidated just by looking at it. He hunched his shoulders slightly as he and Lex made their way through the small crowd in front. A few cameras flashed, which made Lex frown and look eagle eyed into the crowd, but apparently nothing was too threatening, because he kept walking, herding Clark indoors.

"Luckily," he said as they were led to their seats, "we're too late to have to linger in the lobby before it begins. I know we're mostly here for culture and for the one year, but I do have to socialize a little." He made a face. "I've recently been reminded that a business is only as successful as its president, and if I want to make LexCorp a success, I have to network."

"I understand. Am I going to have to talk?"

A tight smile graced Lex's face and he shook his head. He waited until they were safely ensconced in their private box before answering, "Maybe a few, "Hello, sir or ma'am," and a yes or no, but no one's expecting any more than that. Least of all me."

Clark sighed in relief and leaned back against the plush seats. "Good. I'm not good with social stuff. The gallery opening was so hard, and no one was even paying attention to me."

"That's why I bring you to places like this, Clark."

"To torture me?"

He laughed. "No. So you can brush up on your people skills." He casually rested his arm on the armrest and leaned closer. "This time, you're off the hook, but I might start giving you assignments in the future."

Clark turned his head. They were really close, closer than they usually allowed themselves to get in public. Of course, it was a private box, but that wouldn't stop people from looking in at them, and even Clark knew a box like he and Lex were in was designed for people watching. Which was why he'd refrain from kissing Lex's nose. And between his eyes. And his cheeks. And ....

"Uh," Clark said, forcing himself to pull away slightly. "Assignments?"

Lex smirked at him as if he knew what Clark was thinking. Which he probably did. "Nothing major. Maybe talk about growing up in Smallville with a few of the jaded jerks who idealize small town life, or astronomy with some of the amateur astronomers I know. Flirt with a few women--older, of course, to flatter them. That sort of thing."

"Um, okay."

"It's the kind of thing you need to be able to do at corporate parties," Lex said seriously. "I'm not going to marry a wallflower."

"But I'm shy, Lex. It's who I am."

His eyes narrowed and he dissected Clark with them. "Sometimes I wonder. When you want to be, you're really quite charming. And you seem genuinely interested in other people, which is a great quality for a writer. There are times I think that you're sociable and curious by nature, and shy out of necessity."

"I'm awkward around people."

"You were fine with Mark the other night."

Clark shrugged. "I know him."

"You were really happy last spring when everyone was talking to you while you were running for president."

"Yeah, but ..." Clark stopped talking, unsure of what to say. Because Lex was right, and he had had a great time socializing with everyone. But, at the same time, it wasn't something he exactly liked to do. Well, maybe that wasn't exactly right. It was more like ....

The lights dimmed suddenly and the orchestra started playing.

"Try to stay awake," Lex advised, taking Clark's hand.

Clark smirked at Lex and sat back, happy to be able to hold Lex's hand in public and not have to worry about anything for the moment.

The opera was interesting. Clark followed the translations for a while before the language fell in place in his mind and he realized he could understand the performers. That scared him for a little bit, but then he got caught up in the story again. It wasn't that he liked the singing, exactly, but the theme and plot of _Faust_ appealed to him. He liked the idea of temptation and damnation, especially in a post red meteor rock world.

Especially after today. Except, it wasn't just today, it'd been for a while now. Ever since the procedure had failed on Ryan, Clark had been plagued by a desire just to forget. And feel good. The rock made him feel good, even with the hangover afterwards.

He sighed and squeezed Lex's hand as the curtain closed.

"Well?" Lex asked, glancing at him. "You managed to stay awake, at least."

"I like it."

Lex looked skeptical. "Really?"

Clark nodded and squeezed Lex's hand once more before releasing it. "I do. I mean, maybe I'd like it better if it were a play, because every once in a while, they hit a note, and ..." He shuddered. "But, otherwise, it's fine."

"Ah." Lex rose and smoothed out wrinkles in his jacket. "I was almost hoping you'd hate it so we could go home early. But, if you're having fun ..." He trailed off and looked at Clark flirtatiously.

Clark just managed to restrain himself from kissing Lex on the forehead. Then the mouth. Then in other places. "We can go."

"No. Let's stay until the end. In the meantime, I need to mingle." He pushed open the door to the box and led the way.

The lobby was full of people in fancy clothes drinking and talking. Clark immediately felt out of place again and hunched his shoulders, looking at his shoes. Only a light touch on his back reminded him that he had to make Lex look good. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax.

"Do you want a drink?"

"Soda is fine."

Lex nodded and disappeared.

Clark swallowed and went to stand against the wall. A few people glanced at him as he passed by, and a few women smiled. Nervously, he smiled back and fought to keep from running his hand through his hair. Lex had spent almost an hour brushing and styling his hair; Clark didn't think it looked all that different, but it'd been nice to be pet and pampered, especially after the day they'd had.

He stayed against the wall, watching people talk with each other. Most of the conversations were really boring; they either commented on the performers, or talked about people Clark wasn't sure really existed. No one really had plastic surgery every six months, right?

"Here you go," Lex said, returning to his side. He handed Clark a soda, a glass of champagne in his own hand.

"Thanks. Aren't you going to mingle?"

He frowned pensively. "I don't see anyone I know. I mean, I know mingling means to just get in the crowd, but I wanted an in. I was hoping on closing night, I would at least ... Oh, wait. There's someone." He straightened his shoulders. "How do I look?"

Clark shrugged and sipped his soda. "Fuckable."

Lex smiled. "Good. Let's go. We only have ten more minutes."

"I have to go to the bathroom. I'll meet up with you."

"Don't get lost?" He looked worried for a moment, as if Clark was going to sneak off and do something stupid.

/I have to pee, Lex. Even aliens have to take a leak sometime, and I had like five sodas at dinner./

The tense lines around Lex's eyes eased. "Of course. Don't be too long."

"I won't." He gave Lex a mental equivalent of a kiss and then went off in the opposite direction.

This was actually kind of fun. It was a stupid thing to have fun with, but he'd never been anywhere before because his parents had always been too afraid of him wandering off. With good reason, of course, since Clark loved exploring new places. Even though he was just exploring the upper level of the opera house in search of the bathroom, the thrill of adventure went through him. He might find something interesting, after all, a person or a painting or even a plant. Something that caught his eye. And, if not, it was still a new place and had that ... that _feeling_ about it. Unfamiliar and new and hollow because there were no memories to associate with it yet. A new place always felt a little like a new dream landscape, like it wasn't quite real.

The restroom was easily found. Clark winced in sympathy at the line just peeking out of the woman's room, and slipped inside the men's to find it deserted. He glanced around as he made his way to the urinal.

The bathroom was gorgeous. It was hands down the nicest bathroom Clark had ever been in, at least in public. The floors were marble, the walls a deep green. There were a few vases on the walls with flowers in them, and a mural of some sort battle on the wall. The sinks were deep and very clean, the towels fluffy white and folded neatly in the corner. Clark had a feeling there was supposed to be an attendant or something there, but the chair, like the rest of the bathroom, was vacant.

Not that he minded. It was nice, being alone, surrounded by such beauty. Even if it was just to take a piss.

He made his way over to the urinal and unzipped. It seemed the moment his fly was open, the door opened behind him. A few seconds later, a man joined him at the urinal. Which was fine, of course, since it was a public place (sort of) and it wasn't like Clark had never peed next to anyone before, but, dude, the first thing the guy did was check him out. And then, after doing a long, slow body sweep of Clark, he _checked out his cock_.

It was a good thing the sprays of heat were confined to Clark's eyes, because otherwise, the opera house would have exploded. He squeezed his eyes shut a moment and breathed, trying to calm down. He didn't know if he were angry or simply embarrassed, but he did know that if he acted on his impulses, Lex would have to find a way to cover up the smear on the bathroom floor. And he didn't want that.

Clark finished peeing quickly and zipped. He planned to leave without saying anything to the jerk checking him out and just forget what happened. With another deep breath, he turned and got a good look at the creepy man.

All the saliva in his mouth dried up.

The guy wasn't exactly handsome. In fact, he was old, older than Clark's dad. And he had wrinkles. And graying blond hair that sort of feathered around his head.

But ... _wow_ , there was something really sexy about him. In the way he stood, and in that small smile on his face. The air around him, and the eyes that gazed at him through his glasses. He was like Lex, only older and ... more settled. Comfortable with himself and who he was in a way that Lex just wasn't yet.

Clark licked his lips and realized he was staring at this sexy, creepy man who'd checked out his dick.

Creepy Man spoke first. "You're beautiful, you know."

His face flamed hotter. "Uh, you're kind of creepy."

He laughed. "Yes, I do realize I'm breaking etiquette, but your beauty is so distracting. I forgot what I came here to do."

"Probably pee."

"Actually, no," he said, smile growing. "I lied, you see. I came in here to talk to you. I followed you."

Clark crossed his arms. "Why did you follow me?"

"To talk, of course. Just talk."

"About what?" Clark took a half step back, on alert. For some reason, he didn't feel threatened by this man, not like he should. He had a feeling he knew where the conversation was going but, strangely, instead of feeling threatened and powerless, it was almost like ... like he wanted to play.

The man looked him up and down again. "I'll pay you double whatever he's paying you." He raised his eyes and met Clark's, a small smile playing around his lips.

That hadn't been what he was expecting. Clark frowned, trying to make sense of the statement. He couldn't. "I don't understand."

"Whatever Luthor is paying you to be with him, I'll double it."

Oh. "Oh. You think I'm a ..." That idea should _not_ amuse him so much, but damn if that wasn't a smile on his face.

He looked away, blushing. A part of him felt almost flattered and the other part just wanted to start laughing. It wasn't funny. Some old guy was trying to buy him, thought he was a prostitute. It wasn't something Clark should enjoy, and yet ... it was funny.

"I'm sorry, does he not pay you nightly? Ah, of course not." The man stepped closer and ran a finger over Clark's jaw. "No, someone like you must be kept safe and protected. In a nice apartment with everything money can buy to help preserve the sweetness in your face."

Clark looked back at the man, and tried not to lean into the touch. "Uh," he said, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip.

"I can keep you in a more comfortable manner than him," the man said. "I'm older and have more experience with this kind of thing. I'll give you an apartment and clothes. Companions. The nicest food, movies. Anything money can buy. I would spend hours indulging your every whim." While he was talking, his hands caressed up and down Clark's face and through his hair, causing Clark's stomach to tighten with something that wasn't fear. "Do you have any family?" he asked, thumb tracing Clark's lips.

He swallowed hard, shrugged, and thought about pulling away.

"I'll take care of them, too. Anything they need: money, a place to live. Anything. And they'd never have to know about us." He smiled. "Never have to know about our arrangement. And you. I'll send you to school, or arrange for tutors. Anything you want. You can be anything you want. Just say yes."

"Look," Clark said, finally stepping back. "I'm not .... I'm not a prostitute."

The man tisked. "Such a harsh word for what I'm trying to offer you. Of course you're not a prostitute. But a kept boy .... A companion."

"I'm not. Either. And, besides, why would you risk it, anyway? I mean, you don't even know me."

"You inspire me," the man said, stepping back into Clark's personal space. His fingers threaded in Clark's hair. "I can read the innocence in your eyes, and see the beauty in your face. That's all I need to know that I would give you the world. Which is more than Lex Luthor can offer you."

"But ..." Clark blinked, startled, as the man leaned in. His reflexes were just slow enough that the man managed to press their lips together in a kiss before Clark broke away.

His lips tingled and body buzzed. He felt flushed and dizzy and wondered if the man had a meteor rock on him. "Uh, sir," he managed in a shaky voice, holding onto the urinal for support,  
"I'm not .... I'm just a friend of Lex's. He's not paying me to do anything. We're _not_ doing anything," but he blushed at the man's knowing smile. "He just brought me here to see the opera. Because I've never been. That's all."

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

The man sighed, his eyes devouring Clark's body. "My mistake. I am sorry. And you should hurry back. I imagine curtain has been called."

Clark glanced at the door and looked through it; the lobby was empty except for Lex and some man he was talking to. "Yeah. I will." He moved away, and then stopped suddenly. "I'm sorry I wasn't what you wanted."

The man laughed. "You, my dear boy, are _exactly_ what I wanted." He smiled. "If you ever decide to take me up on my offer, go to the Atlantis. It's a nightclub in town. Tell the bartender that you have a message for Morgan, and I'll come to you as soon as I can."

"Yeah, right," Clark said, blushing again. "Whatever." But he couldn't help grinning at the man, Morgan, presumably, before he slipped out.

Lex was still talking by the time Clark got to him. "Oh, Clark, there you are. So, Roger, Monday. Ten o'clock okay?"

"I'll be waiting for your call. It was nice meeting you Lex." Roger shook his hand, smiled and nodded at Clark, and then walked quickly to his box.

"Where have you been?" Lex asked as he and Clark went to theirs.

He blushed. "The bathroom." Clark glanced back; Morgan was leaning against the wall, watching them. "You wouldn't believe what happened." He followed Lex inside and they took their seats just as the lights went down.

"What?" Lex's voice was soft, but above a whisper. He'd turned to Clark, face hard, body tense.

"Relax. It's cool. In fact, it's not important. I'll tell you after the opera."

"Clark ..."

Clark took Lex's hand. Glancing around to see if anyone was watching, he quickly lifted it to his mouth and kissed it. "Don't worry about it, baby. Just enjoy the show." And then Clark settled back into his seat and did just that.

* * *

"Lex, really, it was no big deal," Clark said with a slight laugh at the edge of his words. "He just hit on me, that's all."

"Forgive me if I don't find a fifty plus year old man trying to buy my underage boyfriend no big deal, Clark," Lex responded tersely, painting a strip of blue down Clark's thumb. "God. He thought you were a prostitute. He thought that I ...." Lex broke off, teeth clenched and finished painting Clark's thumbnail.

He'd been in a sour mood since a little after the opera ended. They'd spent about a half an hour lingering the lobby while Lex talked to people before leaving. He'd intended to take Clark to a new jazz club that had opened. But, then, Clark had finally told him what had happened during the intermission. After that, all Lex could think about was trying to get Clark hidden and safe from the world.

God. He was turning into Clark's parents.

"Baby ..."

"Don't fucking 'baby' me, Clark, not right now." He cleared his throat, wanting to choke someone. "Are you _sure_ you've never seen him before?"

Clark sighed. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Close your eyes and think. Concentrate."

"Lex ..."

"Do it."

Clark rolled his eyes before closing them. He was still a moment, before shaking his head. "I swear, I've never seen him before." When he opened his eyes, he added, "He didn't touch me."

"Yes, he did."

"Okay, yes he did, but not, like, anywhere that he shouldn't. I mean, my face and hair and stuff."

"And he kissed you. And you _let_ him kiss you." Lex realized what he said and felt his stomach drop in horror. "Oh, God, Clark, I'm sorry."

Clark shrugged and pulled his hands out of Lex's. Placing them on Lex's face, he said, "It's okay." He leaned forward and kissed him gently. "I mean, no. You're not wrong. I let him kiss me. It wasn't like Lionel where I was so scared I couldn't move. I could have pulled away faster. I just didn't. And I'm really sorry."

Lex swallowed around the sudden lump. Suddenly, all the worries about other boys hitting on Clark, or Clark crushing on other boys didn't matter. Because now there was a man in the picture. And older, establish, apparently sexy as hell man.

"I don't think he was really trying to buy me, Lex," Clark said in what he assumed was supposed to be a comforting tone. "I think he was just messing with me."

"That's what worries me. What if he wasn't some guy hitting on you? What if Dad sent him? Or maybe he was a reporter trying to ferret out our relationship. I just .... God, this was such a bad idea." Furious, he turned back to Clark's nails.

Silence met his outburst.

He bit his lip and concentrated on not getting nail polish on Clark's skin. It would be easier if his hands weren't shaking ever so slightly, but he couldn't help it. He was so goddamn emotional lately, that everything just shook him. He didn't want to lose Clark. There was no reason to feel as if he was losing Clark, except he'd just done some research to see how many couples divorced or split up after the death of a loved one, like a child, and the numbers hadn't been encouraging.

Not that Ryan had been their child. Not that Clark had given Lex any real reason to worry about being left, except for his sudden attraction to everyone in the world but him.

But, beyond the fear of being left, there was the fear for Clark's safety. In August, the idea of bringing Clark to Metropolis for the weekend had seemed sane and rational. Yes, a little dangerous in light of the media's on again, off again love of publishing dirt on him, but Lex hadn't planned on giving them any dirt to publish. Now, though ... what if this Morgan _was_ a reporter? What if he wrote a story on them? What if ....

"Lex." Clark caught his hands. "He wasn't a reporter."

"How do you know?"

"Because he didn't ask me any questions. He didn't ask who I was, where I was from, anything. All he did was proposition me. Does that sound like a reporter?"

"Depends on who he's reporting for," Lex responded gloomily. He untangled his hands from Clark and turned back to the bottle of nail polish. He put the brush back in, screwed the cap and shook it with probably more force than was necessary. "Has it occurred to you that maybe he knows about you?"

Clark rolled his eyes. "Lex, now you're just being paranoid. I've had two men who know my secret approach me. Neither one could contain their glee at discovering a super-being. This guy was just being a dirty old man, that's all." He moved closer and put his legs around Lex until he was protected within their circle. "Lex, baby, we've been together a year. We've learned tons about my abilities and our bond." Clark rested his forehead on Lex's. "I've been attracted to other people before, and haven't had the slightest desire to leave you. Why are you so worried now?"

Lex rested his forehead against Clark's bare shoulders, his throat aching. "I don't know. Everything is so different right now. It feels out of control. _I_ feel out of control."

Strong arms enveloped Lex and held in a comforting grip. "I know, baby," he whispered after a moment. Lips pressed into Lex's temple. "I know."

He sniffed. "This guy, this _man_ ... he's not like the usual men you're attracted to."

"I know. It's weird. And he was coming on so strong, I should have freaked, but I didn't. And, honestly, I think it's because he reminds me of you."

He turned his head so his cheek was resting on Clark's shoulder. Clark's face was so close, Lex could feel his warm breath caress his cheeks with each exhale.

Clark smiled softly and his finger traced the shell of Lex's ear. "For a second, it was like looking into the future and seeing you there. With hair, but .... He has all the confidence and natural command that you have, only he's more comfortable with it. He's moved past all your anger and insecurity."

"I'm not insecure," Lex protested weakly.

Lips brushed against his skin. "No, of course not," Clark replied ironically. "And neither am I."

He sighed. "Okay, maybe in some areas of my life, I am a little insecure." He sighed again. "I never used to be."

"Yes you did. You were just too emotionally closed off to see it. You were so guarded when we got together, so afraid of someone--of me--seeing you." Clark lifted his chin and kissed him deeply. "I love _you_ ," he whispered.

The words were the same, the meaning was different, and Lex felt like he was going to cry again.

He pulled away and blinked rapidly. "Uh ..." he stuttered, but before he could find something to fill the silence, Clark had pushed him onto his back and was kissing him.

Lex groaned, his toes curling. They were already mostly naked, except for their boxers, and the only reason they were wearing those was because Lex was paranoid about nail polish getting on sacred places.

"You know you're the only one I want," Clark whispered in Lex's ear. His tongue traced around the shell and then licked down his skin. "Even when I'm attracted to someone else, you're the one I want to come home to. My Lex. My lover. My other half. No one else."

He whimpered in soft little cries as Clark began to steadily thrust against him. "I know. I'm just so fucked up right now."

"I think we both are, just a little," Clark replied between increasingly heavy kisses. "But, as we keep being told, that's normal."

He laughed. "If this is normal, you can take it."

Clark laughed against his throat and the vibrations spread through his body, making him warm. Arousal quickly followed, and Lex moaned softly, pressing into Clark.

"Hmmm." Clark ground lightly against him. "We're finally synchronized."

He grinned and thrust into Clark. He was greeted by Clark's hard length pressed against his. "Thank goodness. This is our anniversary weekend. And I did promise you that you'd get three kinds of lucky."

"When?"'

Lex arched up and captured Clark's lower lip between his teeth. After sucking on it a moment, he said, "At the hospital. You remembered to call Dr. Sutton when I forgot."

"It's my job to keep you together and pick up the little things, Lex," Clark said as he began rhythmically rolling his hips into Lex. "You do the same for me."

Before Lex could respond, Clark's lips were on his again. His mouth was warm and wet, comforting. Normally, comfort wasn't exactly the most arousing thought, but with his naked skin pressed against Lex's the way it was, and his clever tongue turning Lex inside out, his body was warm, buzzing, and aching for Clark.

Luckily Clark seemed to understand exactly what it was Lex needed because within mere moments, they were both completely naked and Clark's fingers were inside Lex, twisting and stretching slowly.

He moaned and grunted softly. He was tighter than normal, and it was taking too long to adjust to just the fingers inside him.

"Damn," he whispered, inhaling sharply.

"It's okay," Clark soothed, nuzzling around his navel. "There's no rush."

Lex whimpered as Clark slid another finger in. "Why am I like this? I'm usually ready for you."

"And, usually, we spend a lot of time fooling around and waking your body up," was the reasonable reply. He spread his fingers wide, causing Lex to gasped in a choked way. "And, even when we haven't, you're not as tense and upset before. It's fine."

Clark continued to tease his tongue around Lex's navel and stomach, causing wildfires to race over his skin. Gradually, Lex relaxed. Heat suffused his body until he thought he'd catch flame, and then sweat slicked his skin.

"There." Clark kissed the tip of Lex's cock lovingly, and pulled his fingers from Lex's body. A moment later, fingers were replaced by Clark's cock.

"Oh, _God_ ," Lex groaned as Clark sunk into him. There was nothing like the feeling: Clark entering him, opening him slowly, forcing Lex to spread wide to accommodate his size. Legs stretched wide and high as they wrapped around Clark's over-warm body, Clark's breath panting against his cheek as he propped himself over Lex, careful not to crush him.

Lex reached up and took hold of Clark's hair, needing something to sink his fingers into and ground himself.

Clark was breathing heavily and holding himself still. Eyes closed, he looked almost at peace, except for the stain on his cheeks and pleasure written clearly across his face. But, at the same time, there was something about him .... The position of his body .... The way he held himself ... Even the way his eyelashes rested on his cheeks made Lex think of praying.

And then he started moving. Silently, suddenly, just moving. His eyes opened and he caught Lex with them as his hips pushed into Lex's.

He groaned in his throat and released Clark's hair. His hands found Clark's neck and he pulled him down. Eyes still opened and locked, they kissed, which was weird because so Clark only had one eye when he was so close, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was skin pressed against skin, and the cock sliding in and out of him, and their breath mingling together, frantic kisses, bite marks on Lex's neck and shoulders and knowing that he'd never get enough of this man who'd taken him.

"Uh," Lex gasped, startled at the thought.

This man. Clark. The man. The man whom he loved. Not the boy or the teen or the memory of what had been and what was now. Not Kal and Clark. Beyond everything. It was the man.

"Oh, shit," he whispered, and he fell, the world dissolving around him as he came, flying himself, terrified and out of control ....

And falling, as always, back to the arms of his lover. To Clark. The man he loved.

* * *

Lana knocked on the front door of the house where, by that evening, she'd be living. Even though Gabe and Chloe had told her it was fine if she just walked in, she just couldn't bring herself to do it. In fact, she wouldn't be surprised if, for the first few weeks, she found herself knocking to get in after work or school.

"It's open," Chloe's voice called.

She opened the door and walked into the front hall. "Chloe?"

"Kitchen." She sounded grumpy.

Lana walked to the kitchen, amusement creeping through her veins. "Hey, Chlo. I brought you a present."

Chloe was still dressed in her pajamas, her hair rumpled and in disarray by sleep and a pattern on her face from her pillow. She turned, eyes still asleep, but they brightened when they saw Lana's parcel. "Coffee!" She snatched the cup from Lana and took a long, nourishing drink. "Oh, God, thank you. I knew there was a good reason to let you move in." She took another drink.

She laughed and put the carry out container of coffee and the copy of the Daily Planet on the table. "And here I thought it was because, in the end, we're great friends."

"Yeah, whatever." Then she laughed and threw her arm around Lana. "You know I love you for more than your coffee abilities." Chloe kissed her on the cheek.

"Sometimes I wonder," Lana said, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. "Late night, or just normal grumpiness?"

Chloe yawned. "Late night. After the movie, Chad and I ended up going to Crater Lake and ... uh, talking."

Lana blushed and looked away. She picked up her own coffee and took a sip. "So. Uh, how was your date?"

"It was good." Chloe sounded as stilted as Lana felt. "He's a nice guy. We're ... we're going to go out again next weekend."

"That's cool." She licked her lips and looked back. "Crater Lake, huh?"

Her cheeks turned bright red. "It totally wasn't like that. Well, I mean, we talked, right? But, yeah, I guess we did .... Making out with a guy is completely different than a girl."

"You've never made out with a guy before?" Lana asked in surprise.

Chloe cleared her throat and shrugged as she sank into a chair. "Well, I have. Justin. But I guess I thought, well ... it was Justin. Just him. I'd only really kissed you before him, so I wasn't, like, surprised at the difference. But now that I've got another girl under my belt ... Oh _fuck_ , I shouldn't be allowed to talk before coffee." And she took another long drink.

Lana sat down too trying to control her embarrassment and jealousy. She had no right to be jealous, really. Well, maybe some, but it wasn't as if she hadn't known Chloe and Sydney had kissed. And done other stuff. So, she pushed it aside and said, "Yeah, it's different. Whitney's mouth is a lot bigger than yours, for one. And he wasn't as ... neat, I guess? And, uh, his hands were a lot more ... I guess prevalent. At least, at first. The longer we were together, the less interested he seemed in making out and trying to cop a feel. Which is weird, because you'd think it'd be the opposite."

Chloe, who'd been drinking, started coughing hard.

"Chloe?"

"I'm fine," she wheezed. She coughed a few more times. "Uh, you're right. That's weird." Chloe wasn't looking at her.

Lana narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"It's nothing. Really. My coffee went down the wrong pipe, that's all. Seriously." Chloe finally looked at her and smiled that disarming smile that she could do. Then she pulled the Planet towards her.

"Look on the society page," Lana said quietly, feeling cold.

"What, the most frivolous and non-news worthy page there is?" Chloe replied scornfully.

"Chloe."

Something in her tone must have broken through, because Chloe looked up, startled. Then, with a grimace, she turned to the page. "'Last night, Metropolis's ex-bad boy, now currently the reclusive head of the newly minted Lex Corp, was seen at the closing night of _Faust_ at the Metropolis Opera house,'" she read. "'He and his companion were seen briefly speaking with such notables such as Roger Holland of Holland-Meyers and Dr. Fredrick McClane of the ailing Shelton Labs. There have been no reports of Mr. Luthor attempting to expand his corporation, but his presence in Metropolis may be a signal of things to come.'" Chloe sighed and traced the picture of Clark, looking beautiful if a little uncomfortable at Lex's side.

"Do you think this is something we need to worry about?" Lana asked softly.

"Us? We can worry, but it won't do much good," she replied sourly. Then she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. "Fuck, shit, God damn it."

"Chloe?"

"Fuck." She sat back up. "It's nothing. I mean, probably nothing. They aren't insinuating anything, or making conjectures or anything. It's probably fine. Except .... Why does Clark have to be so beautiful?"

Lana shrugged, unsettled by Chloe's frustration. "I don't know. But .... Lex just got married, right? And then there was that girl who stayed with him last year."

"But the press won't forget that he used to sleep with guys."

"They didn't print that, did they?"

Chloe shook her head and took another drink of her coffee. "No. They didn't. I mean, it was speculated, and the Inquisitor had a field day trying to uncover a big scandal, but, the truth is, the entire set that Lex comes from was so notorious anyway, it really didn't matter who they were sleeping with. The news was made from arrests and addiction, not boys having sex. And Lex could never be pinned with anything." She rubbed her eyes. "It'll probably be okay. Lex had to have known someone might notice him and Clark. He'll just have to ... to go back or something. Be seen with someone else. A girl or a group of guys or ..."

"Mr. Townsend," Lana suggested.

"Yeah." Chloe bit her lip and nodded. "Yeah, Mr. Townsend. Lex'll stay out of trouble, for Clark's sake, I know. And Mr. Townsend seems like a nice guy. Like he and Lex can go to a club or something for a drink and not have it end up with a shooting or a scandal." She sighed again. "I just hope no one at school decides to give Clark a hard time about this."

"Everyone knows he and Lex are inseparable."

"Yeah, but it's one thing to have coffee at the Talon and to hang out at a mansion. It's another to get all dressed up and go to the opera. But, there's nothing we can do about it. If people start talking, then I'll do what I can to protect Clark, but this." She put her hand on the newspaper. "This is out of our control."

"Yeah."

"Anyway, we need to get you all moved in," Chloe said suddenly in a bright tone. "Dad's up, and moving around. Oh. And you should be warned, that our bathroom now has a drawer with condoms and information about safe sex he printed out from the web."

Lana blushed. "Um, okay."

Chloe leaned forward and took her hands. "Some of is about safer sex for women. Like, lesbians."

"Oh. My. God."

"He knows," Chloe confirmed. "But I don't know if he's going to talk to us or not. I mean, he's good about providing stuff, I guess, but .... Mrs. Kent called me last night before my date and asked if you and I would like to have coffee with her sometime next week."

Her head hit the table a lot harder than she meant it too. "Oh my God," she moaned.

Chloe laughed lightly and patted her on the back of the head. "It'll be okay," she said, running her fingers through Lana's hair. "You know Mrs. Kent isn't going to embarrass us, and I'd rather have to talk to her than watch my dad stumble his way through it. We won't have that hard a time following any rules about being in each other's rooms since we're not together right now, and by the ... if we ever do get back together, we'll find ways to figure things out."

Lana lifted her head, surprised.

She blushed. "Yeah, well. I've got a boyfriend right now."

"I know."

"Maybe you should, too."

"Maybe."

Chloe gazed at her a moment, unreadable expressions flickering through her face. Then she cleared her throat and rose. "I'm going to go clean up and get dressed. You can start bringing in boxes, if you want. I shouldn't be too long." She leaned forward and kissed Lana lightly. Then she left.

"Uh, yeah," Lana called back, feeling stupid and dizzy. "Sounds good."

* * *

  
Dominic looked truly exhausted when he entered Damien's room. "I managed to make contact with the editor of the Inquisitor," he said, his voice hoarse as if he'd been talking for two days straight. Which, of course, he had.

He sank down onto the bed and rubbed his eyes. "He's agreed only to run a notice of Lex being in town with a companion from Smallville. He won't write Clark's name, and any insinuation is at a minimum. That was the best I could do."

Damien took his hand. "And follow-up?"

"He said that as long as Lex gives him no reason to follow up, he won't. But I don't know. I did my best to warn him off Clark and his family without trying to make them seem to interesting, but it remains to be seen if it will work. In the meantime, I told him he'll be paid for advanced screening and partial veto power for any article about Lex."

"He agreed?"

Dominic nodded. "Yes, but it won't last." He sighed and rested his head on Damien's shoulder. "What the hell happened?"

Damien stroked Dominic's neck. "What happened is, for the first time since September, Lex is newsworthy. I've killed four stories about Clark Kent in the past, and I suspect Lionel's killed at least a few more. For whatever reason, Lionel decided that this was fine to publish and I was unavailable. My hope is Lionel is also working on the Inquisitor to stop any further stories, because I don't know if what you've offered is enough for long term."

"Neither do I." He turned his head. "Do you want me to stay?"

"No," Damien said after a moment, allowing his initial impulse to die. "No. Go back to England. Lionel has to be aware of the fact that you aren't entirely his anymore, but there's no reason to leave LuthorCorp until absolutely necessary. Besides. It will be good for you to be home for awhile."

Dominic put his arms around Damien. "I am home."

He stifled his impulse to push Dominic away for such an utterly and overly romantic statement. Because, the truth was, he appreciated hearing it. "Perhaps," he said, stroking Dominic's neck, "this summer I can get away and visit you in England. If you are still there, that is."

"God, I hope I'm not. I'm gone for four days, and ..." He stopped abruptly.

"And what? I fall down the stairs?" Damien said tersely. He released Dominic and pulled away.

Dominic's jaw was tight and his looked annoyed, although with Damien or himself, Damien wasn't certain. "Yes, that's one thing," Dominic replied steadily. "It terrified me to have Lex call and wake me in the early hours of the morning and tell me the man I love is badly injured. And there was nothing I can do. Worse than nothing, because leaving my position would probably annoy my lover because it's emotional and reckless. But, no, that's not what I was going to say." He sighed and pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. "My apartment was vandalized the other night. Everything destroyed, burned, and ruined." He looked up, a bitter smile on his face. "I know I'm lucky I wasn't there, but it still is galling. Besides, England holds no fond memories for me, not really. This is where I've made my home, and this is where I want to be."

"Dominic, I'm sorry." He took Dom's hand. "Do you know who?"

"Yes. And I can't tell you."

"For my protection?"

"And my own. I'm sure this man meant to kill me." He squeezed Damien's hand. "Perhaps it is better for me to leave for awhile."

Damien frowned, troubled. "Is this because of something I asked you to do?"

He wouldn't meet Damien's eyes, which meant it was.

"Dom, I'm ...

"Damien," he interrupted. "I knew the risks when I contacted him. I weighed my options, and went ahead with it. Because it was what needed to be done."

He sighed and lifted Dominic's hand to kiss. "Still, I am sorry. If I had known ..."

"Don't say it. Don't try to figure what it was you asked of me. You can't know. Who he is, you can't. He would .... The information, placed in Lex's hands, would be what he needs to overthrow Lionel. But they are three steps ahead of Lex still, and the price would be .... Lex would never get to use the information, so a secret it must remain until I know Lionel is weak enough."

Part of Damien wanted to force the name out of Dominic now. To threaten and demand and take it. But, he knew Dominic was right; Lex wasn't ready, especially not now. And if Damien had the name, he would be anxious to act on it and thrust Lex into the position he'd long desired.

"Very well," he acquiesced. "I will wait." He kissed Dominic's hand again. "I still would like to join you in England. Perhaps you can finally make peace with your childhood."

"Perhaps."

"Just, be careful. Both with the politics at the office and with Victoria."

Dominic started.

He smiled. "Yes, I know. Well, have guessed."

"I am so sorry," he whispered, eyes closed. "I couldn't help it."

"I know. I know how much she means to you. She's your sister and you have adored her probably since she was born. But she's dangerous, Dominic. She poisoned you. Don't let her kill you, not when I can't get to you quickly."

Dominic laughed slightly. "I didn't eat or drink when we met, nor will I when we're together. I simply .... I suppose, despite everything, I want to feel as if I have a family. I don't have anyone in the world who cares whether I live or die, and if I had Victoria ..."

"You have me," Damien interrupted gently. "And with me, you will never have to worry about whether I truly love you, or whether I am merely seeking a safe harbor before heading out again."

The look on Dominic's face put Damien on alert. There was something more on his mind, more than simply meeting with Victoria. But her merely lowered his eyes in thought once again. "Take care of yourself, my love."

He hesitated a moment, wondering if he should push, but then decided to let it go for now. Instead, he lifted Dominic's hands to his mouth and kissed both palms gently. "And you, too. Keep me informed, as well. LexCorp could use overseas offices."

Dominic smiled and looked into his eyes. "I promise I will not let you down."

* * *

Clark work slowly, and mostly because he realized the bed was way too big and cold to his liking. Without opening his eyes, he reached over to Lex's side of the bed. Empty. He tried the other side. Also empty.

"Leexxx," he whined, throwing a pillow across the room blindly.

"I'm here, Clark," Lex's voice said calmly from some point in the room.

He rolled onto his back. "Get back here."

Soft feet padded on the carpet and the bed dipped. "You're in a mood."

Clark opened his eyes when Lex's lips landed on his forehead. "You should be in bed. Why ... Oh. What's wrong?" Lex was dressed all in black, looking beautiful and pale. He wasn't wearing shoes, but he was wearing black socks, and there were faint purple marks under his eyes. "Did you sleep?"

"Some."

"Lex ..."

"I had a lot on my mind. I'm sorry." He moved closer and took Clark's hand.

He propped himself on his elbow, frowning. "What's going on, Lex? Is this still about Morgan? Because I swear there's nothing to worry about."

"No. No, it's not about him." Lex squeezed his hand.

"Then what's going on? You seem so ..." Sad wasn't the right word, not exactly. Neither was upset. "Subdued. You were last night, too, after we had sex. Did I do something wrong?"

"God, no, Clark. It was perfect. Wonderful. I just ..." He licked the scar on his upper lip, eyes lowered. "For the first time in awhile, I just realized .... You've grown up so much. And realizing that should make me feel ... dirty. Like a dirty old man. Because I _don't_ think of you as a child, but I always am aware of how ... how _young_ you are, and last night, for some reason, it just struck me how much you've grown since I know you. And." He took a deep breath. "That scares me."

Clark blinked, trying to follow Lex's thinking and logic and failing utterly. "Why would that scare you?" he finally asked. "Isn't growing up what I'm supposed to do?"

"Yes, but ..." He pulled away and covered his eyes. "God, I'm so _stupid_."

"No, you're not stupid," Clark said calmly. He sat up and pulled Lex into the protective circle of his arms and legs. "Not stupid, just confused and sad and scared. And I don't quite understand why. Do you not like me older?"

"Of course I love you."

Clark hesitated and then said, "That's not what I asked."

Lex sighed and closed his eyes. "It's not a matter of me liking or loving you or whatever. Because I will always love you and always like you. It's ... I guess I'm scared."

Clark kissed him gently. "Of what?"

"You outgrowing me."

Ah. So it had finally registered that Lex wasn't the one driving the relationship anymore. Truthfully, Clark had been expecting something like this for weeks now. He couldn't exactly say _why_ he'd been expecting Lex to come to this conclusion and freak out, but some instinct had told him it was coming.

"I will never outgrow you, Lex," he said softly. He kissed him. "I will never grow tired of you being neurotic, possessive, jealous, or insecure. Because I know you can't help it, and you try so hard to overcome those impulses. And I will never grow tired of you clinging to me, or lying to protect yourself, or any of the other million things you do that, yes, may irritate me at times, but don't matter. I love you."

Lex released a shuddery sigh. "Me, too."

Clark kissed him. "Although," he added after a moment's thought, "I have no idea what in my behavior in the past few weeks could have led to the conclusion that I've matured in any way."

"Clark .... Now you're being too harsh on yourself. You've been scattered and weepy, yes, but you're grieving. And handling it a lot better than I am, I should add. But, overall, it's been creeping up, and you've got this inner ... thing going on." He looked up at Clark. "I know we had plans today, but do you mind if we did something else?"

"Of course. Just give me ten minutes, okay?"

"Okay."

Clark showered and dressed quickly. There was coffee, eggs, toast, and bacon in the living room, already pecked at. He made a sandwich out of the food and gulped down coffee before returning to Lex. "Let's go."

Lex was silent and pale as they drove wherever they were going. His eyes were hidden by his sunglasses. His hand rested lightly on Clark's when he wasn't shifting, which was comforting, but he was silent and distracted and very, very tense.

When the cemetery came into view through the windshield, Clark understood a little better. His heart started pounding and, stupidly, he looked over his clothes to make sure he looked okay. Which he already knew he did. He'd taken his cues from Lex and was wearing the black cashmere sweater, black slacks, and a coat. And he'd combed his hair. Surely he was presentable.

Presentable enough for a tombstone, Kent, he reminded himself sharply.

Lex drove through a winding road into the cemetery. It was much nicer than the one in Smallville. Well. Fancier. More pretentious. But a little cold. It wasn't a place Clark could see himself crying over a grave, or sitting by it, reading comic books out loud. It was more ... silent and respectful.

The car rolled to the stop. "We're here," Lex said in a voice that was little more than a whisper.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine." Lex kissed him quickly and then climbed out of the car.

In the trunk, to Clark's surprise, were two bouquets. The first was a beautiful arrangement of white lilies and the second were roses and some sort of purple flowers in a basket. With a pinwheel sticking out of it.

Oh. Oh God.

"Let's go."

Clark followed Lex up the slight hill to a colossal monument. It was huge and unlike anything Clark had ever seen in real life. All he could do was gape stupidly at it while Lex laid his lilies on it, jaw tight.

"Mom," he said softly, his voice graveled. "I'd like you to meet Clark Kent. The boy ... The man I've told you about." Lex looked at Clark, a strange smile on his face. "You know. The love of my life."

"Lex."

But Lex pulled away from the hand Clark extended towards him. "You don't have to talk to her. And she doesn't talk back. I just ..." He shrugged.

"Thank you."

He smiled faintly and took Clark's sleeve. "Come."

Clark touched Lillian's monument gently as Lex moved purposefully across the field. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thanks for such a wonderful gift. And I promise I will take care of him." Then he kissed his hand, touched the stone again, and followed his boyfriend.

Lex was kneeling by a small, white tombstone that was not completely unlike the one they'd bought Ryan. On it was written _Julian Lachlan Luthor, February 28, 1991-March 20, 1991_.

"And this is Julian," Lex said, setting the basket of flowers down.

He knelt next to Lex, as close as he could and still maintain a semblance of heterosexuality. "Hey, Julian," he said, gently touching the stone.

They sat in silence for a long moment before Lex sighed. "I lied to you."

"Oh?"

"Yes. When I ..." His voice caught and he cleared his throat. "About how Julian died. I lied."

Clark swallowed and looked away. "I know," he admitted. Despite being in public, Clark took Lex's hand.

"How?"

Clark smiled at Lex's bewildered tone and turned. Lex was so beautiful, especially like this. Stripped down, naked, vulnerable.

Needing to see Lex's eyes, Clark gently pulled his sunglasses from his face. "The story you told me was too perfectly sad. Majestic in its tragedy. Everything in your life was suddenly right, and then, on this day that everything was supposed to be perfect, Julian is found dead in his crib. It was just so ... neat. Something you'd see on television. Something that you'd want to imagine to make it seem better: the happy mother, the proud father, the perfect family, and then tragedy." He squeezed Lex's hand. "And, even closed off, I could tell. I could read you."

"You know me too well."

"I do."

Lex turned away briefly and rubbed the tip of his nose. And then, eyes fixed on Julian's tombstone, he told Clark the story.

He spoke in a flat, even tone, telling the whole story. The crying, his father's moods--"He wasn't exactly the happiest man. Not like I said he was"--Lex taking Julian into his room. And then more: Kal disappearing, taking away his last refuge, his mother getting ill, him trying to find a cure, virtually abandoning her until the very end and then having her die right in front of him. Being shipped off to boarding school the afternoon of the funeral. Not being able to get into Kiptin. Hearing the baby cry constantly in his head and trying to find a way to make it stop. The drugs. The terrible, aching loneliness and turning numb as he became convinced that Kal was nothing more than a figment of his imagination.

"Just like Julian's crying," Lex finished dully, tears dripping off his nose.

"But I was real," Clark reminded him gently. He rubbed Lex's back. "And you survived all that."

"Ever since Ryan died, I've been hearing it again. Hearing the crying."

He sighed and shook his head. Then, he reached out and wiped a tear from Lex's cheek. "Why didn't you tell me?"

His lips trembled. "Because I wasn't sure if you ... could handle it. If I went crazy. If I had to be medicated again. You've been through so much."

" _I've_ been through so much?" Clark said in disbelief. "Baby, what I've been through isn't half of what you've been through. It's a tip of the ice burg. I just don't ... repress it all. I mean, I know I do. I know I do some, and I've got memories of being a kid and of being scared and of being in that ship. But you've faced horrors I can only imagine, and I would do anything to erase it from your past."

Lex swallowed and wiped his eyes.

"Lex. Don't ever. Worry about what I can and can't handle. Let me .... Trust me enough to be able to go through this. Don't let it build up so much." He closed his eyes. "God. My _mother_ knew about this before I did. She's the one that got to ..." He broke off when his voice cracked and took a few deep breaths. When he opened his eyes again, he felt calmer. "No. It's fine. It's fine, baby, that you went to her. I just wish ... wish that you'd gone to her for help rather than falling apart on her."

"I'm telling you," Lex whispered. He looked up at Clark, eyes so sad and painful. "I _am_ telling you, Clark. I know I'm too late for this one, but I'm telling you. I will tell you. I promise."

Clark sighed, the tense muscles in his back and neck relaxing slightly. "Because you trust me."

"I've always trusted you."

"No. You've always wanted to be in control. You trusted me as long as you thought you had control over yourself and of me. And you don't. I hate to break it to you, Lex, but you lost control a long time ago. So did I. And I think that's how it's supposed to be. Two ... people who take care of each other. Find solace in each other. Listen and laugh with and make love with and joke with and cry with. Sometimes I fall apart and need you to put me back together, and that's fine. And sometimes you fall apart and need me to put you back together." He took Lex's hands and peered earnestly into his face. "And that's fine." He squeezed Lex's hands. "Come to me."

"Always." He made a move as if to kiss Clark, and then stopped, ears pink. "This is what kept me up all night, Clark. Trying to fit this into my schema. Realizing that you're ... mature. Enough for all those words I've said, about love and equals and partners, to really sink in."

Clark rapped Lex on the forehead. "About time."

He laughed. "I'm a genius, Clark, but I can be a slow learner." He squeezed Clark's hand and rose. "So. Are you ready to go to the movies?"

Clark stood as well and smiled down at his love. "Wherever, Lex. Let's just spend the rest of the day happy."

"Agreed."

* * *

  



End file.
